Harry Potter: Child of Akatosh
by Mortaegus
Summary: On the night Voldemort fell, Lily Potter invoked the names of the gods of time eternal and space infinite, hoping to send her child to a different time and place, where he would be safe. She offered everything she had to see it done, and when she died she got the attention of one such god. He took pity on her and her child, and broke the divine compact to save him. Eventual H/Hr.
1. Chapter 1

**It should be obvious, but must declare that I own no rights to the Harry Potter story or the Elder Scrolls game or any of their characters. All such ownership belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bethesda Softworks. Only characters of my own creation are not theirs, and I reserve no rights upon them, so if they catch your fancy feel free to use them.**

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Prologue: A Most Desperate Plea.

Lilly Potter née Evans prepared her final act of life and love. The Dark Lord Voldemort had found them, and had come to take the life of her child. She would not have it. The ritual circle was already prepared. She had only to invoke the rite and awaken the old powers. She hoped the offer of her life would be enough to secure the bargain.

She had spent almost a month in the depths of the Department of Mysteries researching for this moment. She had never trusted Dumbledore, and had known that their precautions weren't enough by far. The old man seemed far too focused on the prophecy. He was desperate for it to be true, and determined to make it happen.

Lilly only wanted to keep her family safe, and damn the rest of them for daring to suggest that they should sacrifice her child to save them!

She wouldn't dare to hope that any of the old powers would strike down the Dark Lord, but they might take pity on her efforts and safeguard her son. Time was the key to everything. Little Harry could be sent to a place and time where he would be safe from the Dark Lord. James shouted a warning at her to go, even as he prepared to buy her time with his life. "Chronos… Zurvan… Akatosh…" She intoned, cutting her palm and drawing a lightning bolt on her son's forehead with her blood. "Gods of time eternal and space infinite…" She touched each of the twelve runes in the ritual circle with her blood and willed her magic to flow through them. She hoped that thirteen channels would be enough. She wasn't skilled enough to make an array with seventeen runes, which was the next stable arithmantic solution. The array she designed would focus her magic through each of the twelve surrounding runes and into the thirteenth that she had just placed upon her son. "I call upon you to ask a boon…" She continued. Her husband James gave a final cry and was silenced. "I sacrifice all that I am and all that I will be… I give my life's blood and my blood's magic in offering… And beg you save my son!" She intoned as the door to the nursery exploded inwards.

The Dark Lord entered sneered down at her. "Stand aside." He said.

"Never! Take me instead!" She begged.

"Stand aside you foolish girl." He growled.

"Not Harry! Please not Harry!" She sobbed, kneeling protectively over the crib.

" ** _Avada Kedavera_**." Voldemort spoke and the green light of the killing curse flashed and struck Lilly. Her eyes turned glassy in death and her body slid to the floor. He strode over her body and stared down into the crib, the oddly observant eyes of the toddler watching him. The Dark Lord did not believe in fate or destiny, but he knew the power of prophecy to reveal the potential paths of the future. The boy before him was pathetic, but would have someday rivaled him in power. Such a thing could never be allowed. He pointed his wand between the child's eyes, watching with some amusement as the toddler went cross-eyed. For all that he was held to be the most terrible Dark Lord in centuries, he was not unmerciful. He always gave his enemies a clean, painless death. Only his subordinates were punished for their incompetence with torture and pain. " ** _Avada Kedavera_**." He said again, and the green light flashed from his wand.

Then the universe stopped expanding as time crashed to a halt. The irradiant green of the curse hovered before the child, suspended in time as a being more powerful than any that had walked the world in millennia took notice. _Akatosh_ took notice. He stared down at the body of the woman who had called him, and at the ritual circle she had prepared. Since she offered herself to him, her soul found his realm upon her death and she had sought him out and begged for his intervention. But he was not as powerful as he had been before the creation of Nirn, and there was a price that must be paid for his intervention.

Akatosh faced the mortal child and reached out with his divinity to touch the boy's soul. He would save him, but at the cost of changing what he was. No longer would he be a child of man. The boy would be adopted as his own child and be blessed with the soul of a Dovah. He would be Akatosh's instrument in this world; a force of balance and change. Akatosh smiled down at the child of man and pushed his power outwards, surrounding and embracing the boy. In a single timeless moment, the act was done. The boy was infused with Akatosh's divine essence and his soul was changed by this power to remake him as a child of Akatosh: Dovahkiin.

But there was something already present within the boy, a magical power so very different from that which was found on Nirn. This magic reacted to the change in a way the Akatosh did not predict. The boy was becoming something else. His changed soul was merging with the magical force that suffused his body. And it was changing him. The magic was adapting itself to his altered soul and adapting his body to the change. He was becoming not merely Dovahkiin, with a dragon soul held within a mortal body, but a Dovah in both soul _and body_. This would not due. Akatosh took hold of the shapeshifting magic that was dormant in the boy's blood and tied it into the change, allowing the child to remain in mortal flesh until he was old enough to survive the transition. It was unexpected; and there is not much that can surprise an Aedroth.

He stood back and allowed time to resume. Dragons were true immortals, and as such physical death was meaningless to them. The death magic that approached his newly adopted son was not capable of harming him, for it attacked the soul and forcibly separated it from its body. The death magic struck the boy and rebounded off of his draconic soul, turning the magic back upon its caster in violent retribution. Akatosh frowned as the wraith of the Dark Lord fled, knowing that the mortal would only return later to trouble his new child. But he had achieved all he could, and in truth more than he was allowed. There would be consequences from his fellow Aedra and the more powerful of the Daedra.

He spared one last glance at his adopted son before fading away. He had given the boy a chance. The future would resolve itself in time. All he could do now was watch…

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Chapter One: A Very Troublesome Child.

Harry Potter learned his name for the first time when he was five, and was taken to school for the first time. His Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had always called him Freak or Boy, and his Cousin Dudley followed their example. Harry was smart enough to know that the words were insults rather than his name, but he had never been told his name to know himself by it. He was so excited to learn his name that he spent several hours muttering it under his breath, testing different ways of saying it until he found one he liked. He even made a fool of himself in his first class: when the teacher was calling attendance and reached his name he leaped into the air and shouted. "That's me!" The teacher had laughed but Dudley had scowled at him angrily.

Which brought him to his current problem: Dudley was chasing after him on the playground intent on 'teaching' him not to stand out. Which meant Dudley was going to hit him. It was one of the first lessons the Dursleys had enforced: he must never be noticed. Thankfully Dudley was already too chubby to catch his much thinner cousin. Harry was strong for his age, and a swift runner. He could keep running all recess. Sadly that would only delay things until they were home and Dudley told on him.

Harry sighed, deciding that it would be better for Dudley to catch him and throw him on the ground once or twice than to face Vernon later. Dudley was a bully and a jerk, but he was fair. He wouldn't tell on Harry if his cousin had already been 'punished' for doing something. And if Vernon found out, Dudley would just brag about having put Harry in his place, and his inevitable exaggerations would make Vernon think Harry had been dealt with adequately.

It was a good plan, and Harry rolled with the shove and stumbled onto the grass as his cousin finally 'caught' him. Sadly a teacher also saw this event unfold, and immediately blew her whistle sternly, stomping over to yell at them both. Dudley ended up with a suspension on his first day, and had to phone home to his mother to let her know. Harry sighed, knowing there wouldn't be any escape for him now.

After school he was sent straight to his cupboard without dinner, and wasn't let out until late the next morning. It was already well past the start of school when his aunt opened the door, and she pettily informed him that she wouldn't provide a note for his tardiness. Dudley was his room playing games, completely unconcerned with missing school. Harry knew there wasn't any point in trying to get to school. He had long since missed the bus and his aunt would never drive him. Instead he did his chores and ate the few pieces of toast his aunt allowed him.

While outside in the garden he looked up at the wispy clouds drifting softly across the light blue sky, and couldn't help but smile. The sun warmed his face and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. He could close his eyes and imagine himself leaping into the sky and flying away, leaving the Dursleys behind forever. It was one of his favorite imaginings. Someday he would escape the neglectful hate of his relatives. Someday he would find his freedom in the pale sky.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was having trouble in school. His Cousin Dudley had been told, in no uncertain terms, that he had best be doing better in school than 'the Freak' or else he would lose his privileges and have to start doing chores. It was supposed to motivate him, but Dudley decided that instead of working harder himself, he would just make sure that Harry failed. It was subtle at first, stealing assignments or doing something that got Harry locked in his cupboard the night before their homework was due. Then Dudley got more overt, getting Harry blamed for starting trouble in class, or deliberately sabotaging his work.

Harry had his own problems. He had taken to sitting in the back of the class so as to avoid having his back to Dudley -something that had become dangerous for him- and the result was that he could no longer see the blackboard. When he asked the teacher to write her words bigger, she had given him a considerate look and asked him to stay after class. When she escorted him to the nurse and the man had given him an eye exam, he found out that he needed glasses. The nurse gave him a note to take home to his relatives, and his teacher took him to his next class.

Uncle Vernon was not impressed by the note, and promptly tore it up in a fit of annoyance. Aunt Petunia just shook her head and took him to pick out some reading glasses that weekend. The fact that they were the wrong sort of glasses was ignored, and the fact that his eyes were damaged from the lack of light in his cupboard rather than an inherited condition wasn't even considered. In a strange twist of beneficial coincidence for Harry, Dudley broke his glasses only two weeks later, and his replacement pair was actually close enough to what his prescription would have been for him to get by. But they still focused oddly and gave him a headache if he used them for long.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ripper was afraid of him. Uncle Vernon's sister was over for a visit, and Marge had brought her prize-winning pit-bull with her. The dog was viscous and acted like a right little terror, chasing Harry around the house while snapping at his heels, much to the amusement of his relatives. He had actually hid himself in his cupboard, only for the dog to slam against the door and claw away at the paint, barking and snarling. Harry had kicked the door out, bashing the dog's nose and making it yelp.

That hadn't sat well with Marge. She drunkenly came over and dragged him out and held him down while her dog worried at his pant leg. Finally she let him up, but Vernon had seen the damage Ripper inflicted on the cupboard door and told him to go outside. Harry took his chance and ran, closing the back door behind him so the dog couldn't follow. He was fine for a while, and sat nursing his scratched legs. At least the dog hadn't managed to bite him. But then that horrid woman opened the door and let her dog out to do its business. However the dog had other ideas than taking a crap, and immediately set about chasing Harry, who scrambled to his feet as soon as he heard the door being opened.

The dog charged him, and all his hurt and anger and frustration built up in a boiling fury inside him until he thought he would burst. He felt invincible, and growled at the animal as it came near. The insolent cur dared to snarl back and actually leapt forwards. {Fear-Run-Terror} " ** _Faas Ru Maar!_** _"_ Harry shouted. Instinct drove him to speak, and the words hit the dog like a physical blow. It slid to a halt so fast it tore up the grass with its claws, and then it ran back to the house whimpering and whining pathetically, begging to be let back in. Nobody inside knew what had happened. Marge just assumed that Ripper had finished his business and was being extra cuddly with her.

Harry wandered around the yard, looking up as the stars twinkled in the twilight of evening. He sat down and laid back to watch them shine. He closed his eyes and imagined flying through the empty night, with only the glinting starlight around him. But even his imagination wasn't comforting, because even as he flew among the stars he was still alone. He wanted someone to play and have fun with. He wanted someone to like him and care about him, and who he could care about in turn. He wanted someone to share his secrets with, and who would trust him with theirs. He wanted a friend.

He stayed outside until almost midnight. When Uncle Vernon and Marge had gone to bed, his Aunt Petunia had come out to find him sleeping fitfully against the tree. She carried him back to his cupboard and tucked him into his blanket, and even allowed herself a slight smile as he snuggled against his pillow. She woke him early the next day, before anyone else was awake, and gave him a large helping of breakfast as a silent apology for the previous night. Harry knew she didn't really love him, but at least she didn't hate him like Uncle Vernon did. He accepted her apology just as silently, and made himself scarce. Marge left that afternoon, complaining about how Ripper was ill and that she had to take him to a vet.

XXXXXXXXXX

Akatosh had watched his adopted son call upon his Thu'um for the first time, and longed to intervene on his behalf. He couldn't help but love all of his children, even his errant firstborn Alduin. But the Aedra had been quite adamant about enforcing the compact for his interference. The anomalous realm within which the Earth existed could only be reached by moving sideways through time, placing it well beyond the reach of the other Aedra and Daedra, who were confined to the realms of Aetherius and Oblivion. But they had nonetheless known about his actions. He dared not violate the compact a second time so soon after the first. But there were other ways he could interfere. His son wanted a friend? Akatosh looked into the uncertain future and found a myriad of possibilities. He could push at one or two potentials to bring them to fruition. He would find a way to bring someone to him who would be his friend…

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was being chased by Dudley at school again. The differences between him and his cousin had become more exaggerated over the last few years. Dudley was now quite large, and couldn't run for more than a few minutes before becoming winded. But he was tall, had long legs, and could sprint _very_ fast for short distances. And he had enough bulk that if he could land his tackle it would _hurt_. Harry had found this out the hard way. He had not gotten much taller, and was still thin and boney. But he could run for a long time before he got tired, and even if he wasn't always faster than Dudley, he could turn and dodge well enough.

Except that Dudley had gotten himself a bunch of friends.

Harry's cousin had run off anyone that might have been willing to be his friend, and his gang made sure that Harry spent all of his time avoiding them rather than playing or having fun. None of the other kids wanted the bother of being friends with Harry. Even if most of them weren't particularly mean to him, they were too scared of Dudley to be nice. A few teachers had made a fuss about the bullying at one point, but it hadn't come to anything. The one who had been most adamant on Harry's behalf was sacked by Superintendent Polkiss, who was a close friend of Uncle Vernon and was the father of Piers Polkiss, one of Dudley's friends. The other teachers quickly stopped complaining, though a few still tried to keep Harry out of trouble.

The day had started wonderfully different, and Harry really should have known it couldn't last. A new student was starting school, and she fell into Harry's age group. After she was introduced to the class, Hermione Granger took the empty seat next to Harry. She didn't know that it had been empty for a reason. Harry saw this as a chance to make a friend and decided not to tell her. They chatted amicably for the first half of the day, and Harry even had her laughing at a joke he was retelling.

He never noticed the hate-filled glares from Dudley.

He didn't see Hermione at lunch, and went looking for her at recess. He found her sobbing quietly on a plastic bench alongside the blacktop. He walked up and sat beside her. "What's wrong?" He asked, already fearing the answer.

She flinched away at his voice. "Go away!" She said. "Your cousin warned me about what you were planning. You're just pretending to be my friend so you can prank me! You're a jerk!"

"My cousin is a liar!" Harry said. "I wasn't planning anything. I just wanted a friend."

"Sara told me what you said about me: that I'd be useful for doing your homework." She sniffed back a sob. "Well I'm not going to!"

"Sara is Andrew's sister, and Andrew one of my cousin's friends." Harry argued. "The only prank is the one they're trying to pull, getting you to stop being my friend. She's probably in on it. I'm your friend. I wouldn't hurt you. Please don't believe them!" He begged.

She sniffled again and looked at him with reddened eyes. "You promise?"

He nodded. "I promise. Friends?" Harry held up his pinky finger and Hermione did the same. They crossed pinkies and pulled apart.

"Aawwh, ain't they cute?" Piers said as Dudley's gang approached. "Look like a right couple of stinkers, don't they?"

"I got you pegged already." Andrew said while looking at Hermione. "You're nothing but a little miss know-it-all. But you should'a been a little smarter and listened to our warn'n."

Harry could see that they weren't here for him; they were here to chase off Hermione. They knew they could go after him anytime they wanted. She went wide-eyed as Dudley reached forward and snatched her bag, dumping her books on the ground and started kicking them. "Stop!" She yelled, jumping up. "What are you doing!? Stop!" She slapped wildly at him but he just shoved her and she fell on the blacktop, skinning her palm and elbow. Harry was frozen with fear and indecision. Seven years of living with the Dursleys had taught him not to fight back.

But Hermione was crying.

 _His_ _ **friend**_ _was crying_.

Harry felt his fear melt away into pure fury. Hermione was his friend, and he protected what was his. She reached for her books with both hands, heedless of Dudley's foot kicking and stomping on them. Just as Dudley was about to crush her hands with his boot, Harry stood up and roared. {Force} " ** _Fus!"_** The word made his will into a force that knocked Dudley and all of his friends back. Everyone but Piers was thrown to the ground, and even he stumbled wildly before regaining his footing. Harry stared them down, and his eyes held a furious promise of retribution.

Andrew took one look at him and ran, not even waiting for his friends. Piers helped Dudley to his feet, and both of them backed away. "You'll get it now Freak!" Dudley told him. "Dad'll take the belt to you for this!" Then he broke and ran away alongside Piers.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, crouching down beside Hermione and trying to help her collect her things. She was so distraught by the senseless violence that she didn't seem to notice Harry blast them away from her. He had been afraid that she would be scared of him. "This is my fault. If it weren't for me they never would have bothered you." He finished gathering her things and offered her back her books and her bag. "I'm so sorry. I understand…" He faltered and took a breath to fix his courage. "I-understand-if-you-don't-want-to-be-my-friend-anymore." He exhaled in a rush. She sniffed and sobbed quietly, but took the bag from him and pulled her legs up to her chest, refusing to look at him. "And… I won't hold you to your promise." He sighed and got up to go find somewhere to be alone. His first real friend didn't want him anymore, and he couldn't blame her at all. He had never hated Dudley more than he did at that moment.

"Don't go." She whispered into her knees. "Don't leave me. I'll still be your friend." She grasped more tightly at her books, tears dropping freely on the damaged covers. Even as she watched they started to mend and fix themselves. She seemed more panicked than surprised, and quickly stuffed them into her bag before looking up at Harry worriedly.

"It's okay." He sat back down beside her. "I make stuff happen too." She stiffened. "I don't want you to be afraid, but I just got so angry that Dudley and his gang were pushed back."

She looked at him with wide eyes still watery from tears. "I saw." She said. "And I'm not scared. You're like me. I still want to be your friend." She mumbled. "If you still want me to."

"I'll always be your friend." He said. She wrapped one arm around him and clutched her bag with her other. He flinched only slightly, but relaxed into her hug and slowly put his arms around her. ' _My friend._ ' He thought. ' _And no one will_ _ **ever**_ _take her from me._ ' He promised. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " He murmured aloud without noticing. His voice echoed his promise and his magic surged around them. Her own magic flared out to mingle briefly with his.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry and Hermione sat together the rest of the day, and neither mentioned what happened during recess. When Hermione asked about the school library, Harry explained that what they had was more of a small office for the public library. They shuffled books between the school and the actual library every week, but never had much on hand at school. He offered to show her the public library, and she insisted that they go as soon as school let out. He was glad that she was in such a good mood, and decided that whatever punishment his relatives would give him would be worth it to make her happy.

After school Harry showed Hermione the way to the Little Whinging public library. It wasn't the largest library around, but the two storied building was plenty big enough for a small town. They spent two hours inside, and Hermione taught Harry how to use the Dewey Decimal Classification to find or look up books. Finally Hermione decided it was time to head home for dinner, and she invited Harry to come along. Since he figured he couldn't possibly get into any more trouble, Harry followed his friend home.

XXXXXXXXXX

Trudy Fairchild was an aged woman who took no nonsense from anybody. So when her granddaughter came home with a polite young boy she met at school, she smiled and invited the lad in. Only later did she learn that this was the notorious Harry Potter. If the rumors were to be believed he was a delinquent and a liar and a bully. Such was his infamous reputation amongst the gossips of Little Whinging that even old ladies like her had heard of him. Yet here he sat at her table and quietly ate the food she prepared. He even thanked her for it! And he was so scrawny to look at, and his clothes were far too large for him.

Trudy began to suspect that the rumors might be a tad over exaggerated. After all, how much of a delinquent could an eight year old be? And really, her granddaughter had better sense than to fall in with the wrong sort of kids. Hermione was an incredibly smart child; a true protégé of her generation. And she had such a temper! She had no hesitation in standing up for what was fair. Trudy couldn't see her choosing to be friends with someone who bullied others. Of course, it had only been her first day. It was possible that she didn't really know him that well.

So she asked about how they met. And the story she heard made her very, _very_ angry. Her granddaughter was the victim of bullying on her first day, but it was Harry's cousin who was pushing others around! And all because Dudley Dursley wanted to dissuade her from being friends with Harry. Well she would see to that little problem!

She left them to play in the living room while she made a phone call to Petunia.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry had a wonderful dinner. In fact it was one of the biggest he had ever eaten. And he had lots of fun with Hermione. They talked about a lot of things, and somehow they ended up talking about their parents. Harry admitted that he didn't know anything about his mom and dad, except what the Dursleys had told him. But he also knew from the sad look Aunt Petunia always had whenever Uncle Vernon bemoaned Harry's parents that his Uncle was lying to him. His Uncle insisted that his parents were drunken layabouts that they died in a car crash. Harry didn't believe him, but he also didn't know the truth. Hermione on the other hand had two very loving parents and no siblings at all. But what Harry learned about them made him very sad. Hermione was living with her grandmother only while her parents were moving their practice and finding a new house. She would be moving back with them next summer, and leave him behind.

He promised himself that he wouldn't cry; that he would make the most of his friend while he had her. She seemed to understand his brooding mood and let him be.

Hermione's grandmother peeked in on them and told Harry that it was getting late. Understanding the hint, he got up to leave and said his goodbyes. It was a long walk home, knowing he would be punished severely as soon as he arrived. He briefly considered running away, but decided against it just as quickly. He had nowhere to go, and he didn't want to lose his new friend. Finally he reached Number Four, Privet Drive. His Aunt stood in the doorway waiting for him with her arms crossed and a stern glare. He gulped.

"Get inside." Was all she said. He walked past her and took off his shoes. He wondered if he would be allowed to use the washroom before being sent to his cupboard. "Trudy called." His Aunt said. "She had some crock story about Dudley bullying her granddaughter and you standing up for her." Harry cringed, but never expected what happened next. "Dudley's grounded." She said, putting a hand on his shoulder and marching him into the kitchen. "I've tolerated a lot of things. I've looked the other way more times than I should have. I've ignored problems even though I've seen it myself. But hitting girls is going too far." She sat him down and put a plate in front of him. On it sat a single piece of cake. "You did good, standing up for her." He stared at the cake in total disbelief. "Clean up and go to bed when you're done eating." She said and then left the kitchen without another word.

That night Harry dreamed again of flying, but this time he wasn't alone. This time Hermione clung upon his back as he spread his wings and soared into the clear cerulean sky.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry found that his Aunt Petunia's newfound generosity towards him had strict limits. She still expected him to do heaps of chores and often forbid him from visiting Hermione, but she made his Uncle Vernon do some of the work and ensured that he could sit at the dinner table and eat a fairly portioned meal. Even if it was only one meal a day, it was consistent. And school provided a decent lunch for most of the week. He was allowed to visit Hermione twice a week, unless he was being punished. She was never invited over, but Harry wouldn't have wanted to bring his friend anywhere near his uncle, regardless.

They spent most of their time at the library. It was something of a sanctuary from Dudley. Harry's cousin never went there. Mrs. Miller, the librarian, was not a gossiper and had never had cause to think ill of Harry. She had kindly welcomed them both and helped them get familiar with the layout of the building. They read about a vast number of subjects, from math and machinery to dinosaurs and philosophy. Harry had a sharp mind for a child, but didn't always understand the things they were reading. Hermione, though, was brilliant well beyond her years and had seemingly no trouble at all. She always took the time to explain things to him, and Harry was immensely grateful.

Harry was reading about two of his favorite things when the librarian walked over to them. She approached unnoticed and peered at their books with interest. ' _Fiercest Dinosaurs of the Cretaceous Period_ and _Aircraft and Flight._ ' She read silently, before hurrying off. She returned five minutes later with two new books which she placed quietly on the table. Harry smiled up at her just as she returned to the front desk to help another visitor. Then he reached over to examine her offerings. _Birds of Prey and How They Fly_ was the first one, and _Of Myths and Dragons_ was the second. He added both to his pile eagerly. Hermione only snorted with barely suppressed laughter. Mrs. Miller had simply given up trying to offer her anything, and instead just helped her to find whatever she was looking for at the moment.

The bird book was interesting. Birds flew very differently from aircraft, and the different ways they used the advantage of flight to hunt were fascinating. The peregrine falcon flew very high to avoid being seen, and could spot small prey from over two kilometers away. It attacked by diving from that incredible height, reaching speeds in excess of three-hundred and twenty kilometers per hour. The golden eagle was another bird of prey featured in the book, which explained the differences between the flight mechanisms of smaller versus larger birds. Some golden eagles had been trained to work in tandem with humans to hunt foxes and wolves.

The book about dragons was of course fiction. But that didn't make it any less interesting. The first few chapters told about many of the myths and legends regarding dragons, and the similarities between them. Almost all human cultures had a dragon mythos of some kind, and usually depicted them as creatures of insatiable greed and supreme arrogance. Harry didn't like that very much; for some reason he felt a strange kinship with the dragons. But not all of the folklore had such negative portrayals of dragons. Two of the stories made him smile with delight. There was a short legend of a Germanic village that fed a nearby dragon every month, and when the Norse invaded the region the dragon protected the villagers.

Another story told about a princess who was to be wed to a suitor she loathed, and took it upon herself to run away. A dragon found her starving and alone, wandering in the wilderness, and took her to its horde to feed her and give her shelter. When her father promised whatever knight should bring her back could have her as a bride, the dragon protected her from the knights that sought to claim the kingdom through marriage. Eventually a simple farmer came calling, and instead of attacking the dragon he tried to reason with it. After negotiating with the dragon, he was allowed to see the princess. He visited many times and eventually won her heart. She left with him and the dragon gifted them a part of its horde as a wedding present.

Harry would later sign out both books to take home with him.

"Hermione." Harry said.

She looked up from her book. "Yes Harry?"

"We've been learning all this stuff about science and history and whatnot…"

"And?" She asked. "What's wrong with that?" She was a little annoyed today. It was probably his fault. He always did something or said something without thinking and hurt her feelings, and she never told him what it was so he couldn't fix it. Dudley had teased them last week, asking if she was his girlfriend. Harry had said yes immediately. She was a girl, and she was his friend. She had been quite angry with him -apparently for not asking her first- but not really upset at being claimed as his girlfriend. He still didn't understand what he did wrong.

"Nothing." He said quickly. "It's just… I wonder about the stuff we can do. I mean if you and I can make stuff happen sometimes, maybe other people can too. Wouldn't that be in books and stuff?"

She blinked and then sat back with a sigh. "I have looked. There isn't anything in any books."

"But some of these stories about dragons also mention wizards and magic and that seems just like the kind of stuff we can do."

"But Harry." She said, exasperated. "That's all just _fiction_. That means it isn't true."

"Maybe the people who put it in fiction didn't _know_ it was true." Harry argued. "Maybe they weren't like us."

The possibility completely stumped Hermione, and Harry grinned at having caught her out of her element. All at once her face lit up in excitement. "Harry that's brilliant!" She said. "I knew as soon as we found each other that there had to be more of us out there. I've been looking, but it's been hard without knowing exactly what I'm searching for. Mom and Dad always told me never to tell anyone about the stuff I can make happen. They were afraid someone would take me away if people learned what I could do. Honestly as much as I detest your relatives, they might have the right idea with keeping your abilities hidden. You said your uncle lied about how your parents died, so it's possible that they were hiding and were found by whoever hunts people like us. My parents wouldn't say who they were afraid of, but whoever they are they must be really bad. Any others out there like us are probably in hiding as well, but they _must_ be somewhere. They could have hidden all the knowledge in plain sight by disguising it as fiction! We'll have a hard time finding out which books are real and which are made-up, but even if they aren't real they might give us some new ideas on things to try. Without someone who already knows to teach us I don't know how else we'll learn."

They had been trying many different things, attempting to reproduce the strange events that sometimes happened to them. They were 'experimenting' as Hermione explained it to him, testing different things to try to make stuff happen. It was part of something she called the scientific process, but to Harry just meant guessing and testing to see if you guessed right. So far they had determined that being emotional was a key component in triggering their power. If either of them was very upset or scared, then something was more likely to happen. Another component was intent. _What_ happened was focused somehow based on what either of them _wanted_ to happen. But it wasn't something either of them could really control.

Mrs. Miller was suddenly bombarded with Hermione's request for all things pertaining to magic, especially learning how to use it and what sort of things it could be used for. She was directed to a number of adventure novels by a handful of authors, some more science-fiction than fantasy, but all offering a story about a person discovering their magic and learning to use it. She devoured these eagerly and set about making a list of new things to test.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. Their latest experiment had backfired spectacularly. Hermione had been trying to cause a small stone to move. She had succeeded in making it roll around with a gesture of her hand, and then proceeded to make it lift into the air. She had been so happy, almost squealing with delight at her triumph.

Then the rock exploded.

Her hand had been stretched out towards the rock, directing its movement. Small bits of stone lacerated her hand and arm, and another piece of rock had cut a fine line across her cheek, just below her eye. She fell into a sitting position whimpering softly and crying while holding her arm with her other hand.

"Hermione are you alright?" Harry demanded, sinking to the ground beside her. They were in a small clearing in the woods, about a mile from her grandmother's house; almost twenty minutes walking distance, much too far for him to leave her to go get help.

She shook her head quietly. "Hurts." She sobbed.

Harry stared at her wounds, and felt a rush of worry at how much flesh had been torn up and how much blood there was. It was not unlike the newspaper print of the boy hurt when playing with fireworks. Harry felt sick because the boy had later lost his arm. His instinct surged forward and before he even realized what he was doing he voiced his intent and made it real. {Mend-Heal-Restore} " ** _Vokren Vahraan Vokrii!_** " Harry shouted. The magic, tinged with his worry and fear, wrapped around her arm and shined like starlight. Little flashes of white sparked and flared, flowing through her hand and arm. Even as he watched, the torn flesh knitted together and the wounds sealed without any trace of scar or blemish. Hermione gasped and threw herself into him, hugging him with relief. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " Harry whispered.

She shuddered. "Thank you." She said. "I'm so stupid!"

"No you're not." Harry said, almost amused. He was still too concerned to be amused.

"I could have died! And if you hadn't been here and healed me I would have probably passed out before I could make it back." She said. "I'd say it was stupid do something like this out here when we didn't know what would happen."

"That's just it. We _didn't_ know what would happen. That's _why_ we're out here. Can you imagine that rock exploding in your grandmother's house? We didn't know, so we made the best decision we could with the information we had. Isn't that what you're always telling me to do?"

"But Harry, I should have known this could happen just from what we were trying to do!"

"I don't see how." Harry said.

She released him from the hug and shakily pulled out her notepad. "Push your magic into an object until it is saturated in it, and control the object by directing your magic to move." She read. "That's the theory we were trying. But nothing can hold unlimited energy. Pour enough heat into water and it vaporizes, into wood and it burns, and into stone and it melts. If I had noticed that it was getting hot, maybe we could have stopped in time."

"It didn't melt though." Harry said.

"Because it had bubble of air stuck inside! It got hot enough that the air expanded and the stone exploded." She explained. "I didn't notice because I was so excited that it worked, but I kept pushing more and more magic into it the whole time I was controlling it."

Harry nodded slowly. He didn't quite understand, but it would be better to get Hermione home than to let her try to teach him something in the middle of the woods. Especially after she had just been hurt. He helped her up and they started walking back, Hermione holding tightly to his hand. Harry didn't mind at all.

"And Harry! Did you notice? When you healed me you spoke some strange words! I seem to remember you also said something weird back when you tossed your cousin off of me the day we first met. I don't remember the words, though. Do you think your magic is somehow tied to your voice?"

"I don't know." Harry replied. "I just thought about you being hurt and then I felt really upset, then the words just flowed out of my mouth."

"What was that other thing you said? Afterwards, I mean. You said that one before."

Harry tried to think back. "I don't know." He said. "I was just thinking about you."

"Well it definitely wasn't my name." She shook her head. "But it felt weird: like you were referring to me. I just _knew_ you meant me when you said that word. And I felt safe and protected in your arms."

He thought again about Hermione, and everything she had come to mean to him in the last few months. She was his first and only friend, and their friendship was the only thing he had that he valued. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " He said softly. His voice carried all his love and trust in her and she felt it as though it physically embraced her.

She looked at him sharply. "That's it!" She said. "Dee." She looked at him. "Anything?"

"No." He said, causing her to pout.

"You do it again." She ordered.

"Dii." He dutifully repeated.

"That didn't work." She said. "What are you doing different?"

"I don't know." He said. But then again, he realized that he did know. "Wait." He said, thinking hard about Hermione. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " He tried again. His voice embraced her again.

"That did it." She squealed. "So what's the solution?"

"I had to be thinking about you when I said it." He explained.

She suddenly had a look of intense concentration on her face. "Dee!" She shouted, and then looked at him expectantly. He shook his head. "Dee." She tried again. "Dee. Dee. Dee!"

He bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Like this." He said, focusing everything he had on how much he had come to love her and her friendship. {Mine} " ** _Dii!_** " He shouted.

His passion touched every part of her, his love for her blossomed in the back of her mind and his affection caressed her body. For a single moment she felt utterly loved and cherished. Her whole body shuddered and he caught her as she stumbled. "That was intense." She said.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Fine." She said quickly. "I'm fine." She paused to take a breath. "I think I can do it." She closed her eyes and imagined all her time alone and friendless, all the bullying and fake attitudes, all the times she cried herself to sleep because she had no one. Then she thought about Harry and how he was just like her; ignored by the people who should have cared for him and then bullied and abused by his peers. Until they found each other. He was hers and she was never letting him go. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " She said imbuing the word with true meaning. He felt her feelings wash over him and couldn't help but smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

Another month had passed, and Harry's cousin had forgotten the lessons of the playground. Dudley decided that since his mother wasn't going to let his dad punish the freak, he would have to do it himself. Vernon Dursley encouraged this, even going so far as to get his son some boxing lessons, but warned him not to get caught. Dudley had three more lackeys now, and his group of friends was becoming more of a gang every day. They caught Harry and Hermione on their way to the library after school at the end of the week.

"Oh crap." Harry said. Seeing six people walking towards them led by Dudley convinced Harry that they needed to be someplace else. Not one of them was smaller than Hermione -let alone Harry- and they didn't seem to have peaceful conversation on their minds.

Hermione seemed to share his sentiments. "The library's closer than my gran's." She said. "Let's make a run for it." When the gang saw that the two of them had quickened their pace to hasten to the library, they immediately gave chase.

"Don't let them get away!" Piers shouted.

The pair of children ran from their pursuers, but Dudley and Andrew cut through old man Clay's yard and got in front of them as they turned the corner. Harry faltered upon seeing his cousin, but Hermione kept her wits about her and grabbed his hand, dragging him across the street. They cut through the alley behind the convenience store and raced down the utilities corridor, turning another corner. A building blocked one side of the alley and a double fence with wood-panels and chain-link blocked the neighboring lot. After thirty more strides Hermione had to pause to catch her breath, threading her fingers through the chain-link for support.

"Come on! They're right behind us." Harry said.

"I just need… to catch my breath…" Hermione panted.

Harry didn't like being chased like this. He didn't like being cornered. And most of all he didn't like his friend being threatened by these stupid bullies. Instinct overtook him again and before he realized it he was recalling words of power. {Vanished-Unseen-Hidden} " ** _Vognun Vonun Soven._** " He voiced. The magic surged and wrapped around them, concealing them from both sight and notice.

Dudley and Jessie stepped out of the alley and raced to where they thought their quarry would be. "Where'd they go?" Jessie asked.

Taking deep gasping breaths, Dudley answered. "I don't know. Do you think they jumped the fence?" Just then Piers and Andrew caught up. "Piers, check the other side." He gestured at the chain-link.

Piers nodded and tried to peer through the cracks in the wood on the other side of the chain. Seeing nothing he grabbed the chain and started to pull himself up and over. As he reached the top of the fence something slammed into the wood and the whole fence shook. Piers almost lost his grip and fell over the other side, only just managing to catch himself. "There's a big fucking dog over here! No way they got over without that thing getting them." He said. The dog slammed into the fence again and Piers yelped, trying to hang on. Dudley jumped up and grabbed his legs, pulling him back down on top of him. "Thanks Dudley." Piers said as he got up. "I'd rather not be that dog's chew toy."

"Let's go then." Dudley said. "We'll catch them next week."

The gang moved off and Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. "That was new." She said, turning to look at Harry.

He shrugged. "It just sort of happened. I don't know how I knew what to say. I just _did_." He tried to explain, even though he didn't understand it himself.

"Like someone was telling you the words and you repeated them?"

"No. Like I already knew the words and just needed to remember them." He said.

"Instinctive." She muttered. "I don't really feel like going to the library anymore. Let's just head to gran's." She said.

Harry agreed and followed alongside her. On their way they discovered that no one could see or hear them, even when they waved their hands in their faces or moved things around right in front of them. Only if they interacted with something that someone was already focused on would they see the children. They also learned that if they were to actually touch someone, then that person would be able to notice them afterwards, even after they stopped touching them. This was likely how they could still see each other, since they had been holding hands when Harry spoke the words.

They stopped in the park to play around with their seeming invisibility for a while, until after a little over an hour the concealment effect wore off. They had a few good laughs before heading to Trudy's house for supper. They told Hermione's gran about the incident with Dudley's gang, but when Trudy called the Dursleys to complain to Petunia, Vernon answered the phone and shouted at her before telling her that she could 'keep the freak' and then slamming the phone onto the receiver. Trudy resolved to speak with Petunia in person at church that weekend.

Hermione was glad enough to have Harry stay for a sleepover, and promptly broke out the extra blankets and pillows. Harry helped set the table for supper and enjoyed a meal as a part of their family. Trudy further resolved to see about removing Harry from the Dursley's care.

XXXXXXXXXX

The ancient blood magic laid in place upon the Dursley family by Albus Dumbledore worked to protect them from any who wished them harm. It would keep not only their persons and property safe, but also their reputations. It did not prevent the slander that they themselves spread about their nephew, and it did not prevent their own abuse of his person. But when Trudy Fairchild spoke with the officer working for children's services, the magic reacted to the threat and the report, which should have been followed up on by the start of the next week, was lost. A second call some weeks later had the same outcome.

After seeing no results from her earlier reporting of the abuse, Trudy sent a letter to a local politician. This was also lost in the mail. A visit in person to the police station to file a report at least got the police's attention for a short while. During the increased scrutiny, Dudley's gang was caught vandalizing a car and each of the children involved were escorted home, and fines were pressed upon their families to compensate the car owner. But all too soon the incident was forgotten and they continued as before.

Finally Trudy became desperate and called her longtime friend and arranged for tea with her and her husband. Her husband was a circuit judge, and maintained a not insignificant amount of political power. When she explained the situation he seemed enthusiastic. It was a chance to step in and do the right thing. That he would be seen doing it only made him more eager. This effort also collapsed as he was suddenly caught up in a scandal and forced to retreat from public view, spending every favor owed to him just to hold onto his job.

Trudy was at a loss for what to do to remove Harry from the Dursleys, so instead she did all she could to make sure Harry felt welcome in her home and got a good meal every time he stopped by.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was not sobbing like a child. He most certainly wasn't. He just had trouble breathing through all the sadness. Those weren't tears. Harry Potter did not cry tears. He just had some grief in his eyes. That was all. He had learned long ago that crying didn't help anything, and only made things worse. So why couldn't he stop himself?

 _Because he was losing his only friend._

After seven months, Hermione's parents were taking her back. In truth their new house had been ready for some time, but they hadn't wanted to force her to change schools twice in one year. But now school was out for the summer, and they wanted their daughter back with them. Hermione was crying too. Harry thought the whole thing was stupid. If neither of them wanted her to leave, then she should be allowed to stay.

Sadly, his opinion was ignored.

"But I don't want you to go." Harry said, pleading.

"I know, Harry." Hermione replied, giving him a hug. "But they _are_ my parents. And I don't want to leave them any more than I want to leave you." She hesitated, knowing she was hurting him by not fighting this more. "I'll come back and visit. Christmas and Easter holidays for sure. And a few weeks during the summer. Maybe even this summer. Every year. I promise. And I'll write you. And you can call me anytime you're over gran's."

Trudy decided to make her own feelings known. "My house is always open to you, Harry." She said. "You're a good boy, and anytime you want to get away from the Dursleys for a few hours or the whole day, just come by."

Harry wiped his tears and nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Fairchild."

Trudy harrumphed. "You can call me gran."

"Thanks gran." He tried again. She nodded approval. He turned to Hermione. "I'm going to miss you." He hugged her close and murmured. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " She closed her eyes against her tears as his love and affection washed over her.

"I'll miss you too." She said. "Take care of yourself, Harry." Then she returned his whisper. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " And he could no longer pretend he wasn't crying.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two weeks later Harry sat at the dinner table in the Dursley residence. He sat in silence, eating the bits of broccoli and potato that were left after his uncle and cousin had taken their portions. None of the chicken was left for him, even though he had prepared the meal. It irked him, but he stayed silent and mashed his potato with his fork. The Dursleys had been less tolerant lately, since he was home more often and was no longer being seen regularly outside of the house. His list of chores was growing almost every day; ostensibly since he didn't have school at the moment and they wanted to keep him busy and 'out of trouble' and such.

Vernon had decided that since he hadn't yet faced any repercussions for his treatment of the boy, especially in light of the threats from Trudy, he was free to do as he wished to discipline the freak. Except that the boy hadn't done anything to warrant it. Yet. Instead he meekly accepted anything he was told to do. He never talked back, never shirked the work he was given, and hadn't caused any problems with his freakishness since that girl left. Vernon wondered if it was finally over, if everything would just go back to normal.

He was wrong, of course.

When dinner was over Harry cleaned up the table and did the dishes. While he was pushing the chairs back his aunt stepped in. "This came for you. From the girl." Petunia said, handing him a piece of mail.

Harry took it eagerly. "Thank you." He told her as she left the kitchen, and then tore open the envelope and sat down to read the letter.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope you're doing alright, and that the Dursleys are treating you fairly. If they aren't just get word to gran. She'll set them straight. I've been doing okay. I live a lot further from the library here, so it's quite a bother to walk there. Mom gives me a ride every Saturday, and we spend a few hours picking out books to take home for the week. The new house is really big. We have five bedrooms, and a basement, and a huge backyard, and a swimming pool. Dad promised to help me decorate my room. I've got a lamp with a shroud that works like a planetarium and I'm going to use it to paint the ceiling like the night sky._

 _My parents are at work most of the day during the week. There is a neighbor girl who is still in school that they hired to babysit me. It's annoying because I can't do any practice with what we learned or try any new experiments. But she's nice, and she showed me how to braid my hair. I've been exploring the selection at this new library, but I haven't found anything of interest to us yet. But they have a lot more books, so keep your fingers crossed and hope for a bit of luck. The librarian here is an awful man named Charles. He smells funny and isn't any help at all._

 _I miss you every day. Write me back soon. Or better yet sneak out to gran's and call me._

 _Your 'Dii' Always and Forever,_

 _-Hermione_

Harry read her letter several times, and his heart ached all the more for the lack of her presence by his side. He cried a little every time his eyes traced over her letter's closing line. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " He whispered aloud. He felt his magic search out for her and return unanswered, and it made his hurt even worse. He sighed and sat down to write a reply to Hermione. After an hour he had started several letters that inevitably ended up in the rubbish bin. He just couldn't decide what to say. He was so focused on his writing that he didn't notice Dudley come into the kitchen to grab a drink. Before he realized it, Dudley had snatched her letter and was reading it.

"Give that back!" Harry demanded, rising to his feet.

"Make me." Dudley said, pushing him back as Harry lunged at him. Dudley had far more body-mass than Harry, and easily held him off. He was also taller, and used his height to hold the letter above his cousin's head and taunt him with it.

"I said _give it back!_ " Harry snarled. He jumped on Dudley and started climbing on his shoulders to reach his letter.

Dudley spun around and slammed him into the wall, knocking him off. Then he casually brought the letter forward and tore it to pieces. "Know your place, freak."

Harry was incoherent with rage. He lunged forward and tackled Dudley who stumbled back and tripped over the kitchen chair, sprawling them both on the floor. Then Harry punched and pounded again and again, hitting Dudley as hard as he could in blind fury. Then he felt the world spin and a sharp crack of pain blossom against the side of his head. Vernon had come into the kitchen and walloped him with a wooden stool. Harry flailed about in a daze before slumping against the wall, blood pouring from a gash beneath his hair.

"Boy!" Vernon shouted. "Get to your cupboard!"

Harry clenched his fists and stood shakily. "He tore up her letter!" Harry shouted.

"I don't care! I'm warning you once boy, in respect for your good behavior these past two weeks. Get. In. Your. Cupboard." When Harry didn't move he shouted. "Now!"

Harry turned and left the kitchen. His Aunt Petunia was standing down the hall, staring at him with a sad look in her eyes. When he met her gaze she turned away, ashamed. He stomped over to his cupboard and slammed the door shut as he sat on his ratty mattress and wept tears of anger and frustration. It would be so easy to say the words and throw them both into the wall. So easy to make them hurt; like they made him hurt.

His dreams were once again of flying. He was high in the empty sky, staring down upon the world below, as the quarter moon rose above the horizon and cast its illumination into the night. He flew along the edge of a vast forest that sprawled across the land, reaching all the way to the mountains near the horizon. The edge he followed curved gently away and opened into a slight valley. A lake of water so deep it looked black was reflecting the moonlight against its calm surface. Beside the lake a great stone protrusion rose up from the earth, and upon it was built a massive castle of towering bulwark and stone.

He folded his wings and dove in a spiral towards the earth. As he neared the trees he unfurled his wings again and pulled out of the dive, his claws scraping the highest branches as he flew past at exhilarating speed. He roared into the open air, exerting his dominance of all and claiming dominion over the land. No challenging roar was issued by any who would contest his right to rule. But he was once again alone, even in his dreams. He knew he was missing something. No. That wasn't it. He was missing _someone_.

He had lost **_Dii_**.

He roared out in agony at the loss of his companion and swore to find her again. He struck a steady rhythm with his wings, beating against the air as he gained height and steered his flight in a slow spiral away from his new domain. He felt out with his senses, searching for what he had lost. He would not rest until **_Dii_** was with him once again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry woke very early the next morning, totally drenched in sweat. He felt weak and his hands shook with fatigue. He reached for the cupboard door but found it locked. In a burst of strength he didn't know he had he pushed against the door and the screws holding the bolt were ripped out of the wall with a wrenching sound. He threw up on the floor, and wanted to gag at how bad it smelled. He stumbled out into the hall and made his way to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass he filled it with water from the tap and gulped it down, easing his parched throat and lessening the taste of bile in his mouth. Then the pain started.

His muscles seized up as a wave of agony ripped through him and he collapsed on the floor. For a while he could not even breathe. When it lessened momentarily he took a deep gasping breath and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He felt suddenly very claustrophobic. The kitchen, as large as it was, seemed terribly confined. He needed an open area. He needed the empty sky.

He made his way to the back door, fumbling with the deadbolt and becoming increasingly frustrated. Finally he got the lock to turn and the door came open. He almost smacked his head onto the grass, only just managing to catch himself with his hands. He crawled away from the house even as the agony returned a thousand-fold. He clenched his teeth against the pain but still screamed. He screamed and screamed until his voice became a muted roar and he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**It should be obvious, but must declare that I own no rights to the Harry Potter story or the Elder Scrolls game or any of their characters. All such ownership belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bethesda Softworks. Only characters of my own creation are not theirs, and I reserve no rights upon them, so if they catch your fancy feel free to use them.**

* * *

Chapter Two: A Little Boy Dragon Born

Harry blinked his eyes, the memory of unbearable pain still ghosting across his nerves. He lifted his head slowly and experimentally opened his eyes. At first everything was a blurred haze, but then it all suddenly came into sharp focus. He barely noticed that he wasn't wearing his glasses and wondered if he wasn't still dreaming. The short grass swayed in front of him, and he realized that it was his breath that was blowing it. He vaguely remembered waking in the middle of the night in a sort of fever dream. Hadn't he gone to the kitchen for water? How did he end up outside? He tried to stand up and only managed to slide forward on his stomach. His arms didn't seem to be working right. He turned his head to look at…

And promptly found the answer for why his arms weren't working. His arms and hands had changed dramatically. He experimentally flexed his right arm, testing it for movement. He still had an elbow, though it seemed to have lost a few degrees of rotation. He still had a wrist, though again it did not have the same range of motion. And he still had a thumb, of a sort, and actually his pinky had extended and shifted down, becoming more malleable and like a second thumb on the opposite side of his hand. But of course all of this was overshadowed by the fact that his fingers now ended in claws and his skin was now covered in thick plated scales. Upon further examination he decided that his arms had become more like legs, albeit capable of grasping and holding.

And he had gained two extra limbs, attached to his back just below his shoulder-blades. These new limbs were wings, with long boney ligaments holding thick membranous webbing. The underside of the wings had softer, yet still lightly scaled flesh. The back side of the wings was covered in the same thick plates as his arms. His legs had gained a massive amount of muscle and were now shaped more like a cat's legs. And his feet had become quite a bit more like talons, with additional muscles for gripping and crushing with his new claws.

He unsteadily stood up, moving one foot at a time in slow and measured movements. He could feel the grass pressed beneath his feet and the dirt compact under his weight. But for all of his new bulk, it didn't sink much deeper than it would have before. He was simply more aware of it. He stumbled over to the tree, half-leaning and half-falling against it. It didn't even shake from the impact. He took a few more deep breaths and closed his eyes, hoping this would just fix itself, but when he blinked them open he was still changed.

His neck was longer and thicker, allowing his head to swivel almost completely around before straining too much. He crossed his eyes and saw that he now had a scaled snout, and turning his head this way and that caused something to scratch at his neck, so he probably had horns or a crown of plated scales sticking out of the back of his head. His back had a few spikey ridges, and he found that with some concentration he could flex them. Perhaps they were intended for aerodynamics? He turned away from the tree and spread his wings experimentally, trying to recall the books he had read about the flight of birds. The wings were almost less important than the tail, when it came to flight.

He looked back, and sure enough he had a tail. But it wasn't a bird's feathered tail; instead it was a reptilian appendage, like a crocodile's but longer and thinner. It also had a wing-like fan of webbed flesh that he could extend and flex or fold and retract. It was clearly there to act as a rudder when in flight, but the tail was also very strong and flexible. He swung it this way and that, experimentally, and found that he could wrap it tightly around objects like a snake. He discovered this when he accidentally wrapped it around the tree, and struggled for a minute to get it free. Then he stood slowly and took another deep breath to keep from panicking.

He was… a dragon. A four legged, two winged, one tailed, long necked… _dragon_.

He looked back at the Dursley's house with something akin to anxiety. He wasn't… afraid of them anymore. The part of his mind that recognized itself as a dragon knew they were no threat. But he was still worried about how they would react. They would never tolerate this. Even Aunt Petunia, who tried so hard sometimes to treat him normally, would not be able to accept him as a dragon. That did not even begin to address the problem of him actually _being_ a dragon. How would he survive? He was not that much larger than he was before. Without counting his tail or wings he was about the size of a small pony, and his wings at full extension were only half again the length of his Uncle Vernon's car. And when they weren't extended they folded up so tightly they were hardly that much larger than the spiked ridges upon his back.

Regardless of his prior circumstances, his new situation did not allow him to stay here. He had to leave. He had to leave _now_ , while it was still too dark to see and still too early for anyone to be awake. He trundled across the back yard, heading for the gate at the side of the house. He couldn't quite work the latch with his claws, but after a moment of consideration he jumped easily over the gate and landed lightly on the other side. He made his way past his Uncle Vernon's car and spared a moment to look at himself in the side-view mirror. He was trying to adjust it to get a better look when it broke off. Flailing about in a slight panic, he accidently gouged three long gashes into the side of the car with his claws. He sheepishly set the mirror down and decided to leave before he did any more damage.

All of the lamps along the drive had burned out. He knew they were working last night, so it surprised Harry. He had no idea that the magical discharge from his transformation had burned out every electrical circuit nearby. The only working lights were a few lampposts at the very end of the drive, where Privet Drive met Maine Street. They cast a very faint light. This brought to Harry's notice that his eyesight was now phenomenal. He could distinctly make out individual blades of grass on the other end of the street and focus on them with perfect acuity. And there was no moon out; only the starlight and the very distant streetlamps gave any light at all. Yet he could still see flawlessly. He could also smell. There were a thousand different scents filling his olfactory sense to overflowing. It would take time to sort through the sensory overload and understand any of it. He could taste almost as much as he could smell, just by breathing a little different and moving air past his tongue. He didn't even need to open his mouth.

His hearing was likewise improved tremendously. Small insects buzzed everywhere, and he could discern his Uncle Vernon's snores from the backdrop thrum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the wall-clock. The distant streetlights gave off an electric hum, and a car motored down the street a few blocks over, small explosions popping inside the engine dozens of times a second. He also had incredibly miniscule hair-like spines along the sides of his snout and down the ridge of his back and tail. They were alike to cat whiskers, incredibly sensitive to the flow of air around them. He could _feel_ the minutest difference in air pressure and movement. His sense of touch was deadened because of the scales on his body, but he could feel with his whiskers.

His new senses were so overwhelming that he had to lie back down before he fell over. He couldn't seem to stop the sensory bombardment. Every sound and movement seemed to strike him in a dizzying whirl of noise and motion. Every scent and taste was a torturous stimulation that he could not block out. He gained a headache that quickly progressed into a migraine. He sat there for a minute, growing increasingly frustrated. He knew he had to leave, but he still didn't know where to go. It was all very confusing. And a dragon! How did something like this _happen_? None of the things he and Hermione had done so far could compare to _this_. He forced himself back to his feet and stumbled forward, stretching his wings and learning to use his extra limbs as he went, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the neighbors.

Harry decided that he needed to remain unseen, and there was too little time left before morning for him to get very far. So he followed the road for about twenty minutes, until he reached the old train station. The derelict buildings would make a suitable shelter for the day, and he could travel after sundown if he needed. The depot was fenced off and had no-trespassing signs posted. He ignored them, but the fence was too high for him to jump and he wasn't comfortable enough to use his wings yet. Instead he cut through the chain-link with his claws and forced his way through the opening. The buildings were steel and concrete, but had been gutted of nearly everything else. He found a suitable room on the second floor of an engine repair bay. There were four intact walls and the glass was still mostly in the pane on the ceiling. He laid himself on the floor and curled up with his wings over his head, hoping to find some sleep. The sun was nearly overhead when he finally managed it.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry's sleep was fitful. At first every little noise would wake him, but eventually he toned some of it out and was only woken when something made a sound nearby. The sun was a great comfort, though. It felt like a warm fuzzy blanket wrapped around him. He wouldn't have been able to notice the temperature unless it was extremely hot or cold, but the sun gave off more than heat; it released energy, and his new body devoured it like a starving animal. When the sun was finally setting he got up and explored the train station more thoroughly. Aside from a massive industrial press on the ground floor and the rainwater-flooded basement, the building he slept in was empty. The others held just as little of interest. There was a stray cat living in one of the outbuildings, but it vanished shortly after it spotted him. While he explored he tried to make sounds with his mouth. Everything was so different from what he was used to that it was hard for him to make any noise that sounded human, let alone speak a proper language.

His mind was an interesting place at that moment. He was both human and dragon, with a single consciousness but with two sets of instincts and drives. As a human he was scared and confused, and wasn't quite sure what he wanted. He definitely didn't want to go back to the Dursleys, but he also didn't want to live alone in abandoned buildings. He also wasn't too certain about being a dragon. It seemed a daunting prospect to him, and he already missed having hands. As a dragon his desires were much simpler: claim a territory, gather a horde, and find his **_Dii_**. Harry found himself in agreement with that last. He wanted Hermione back as well.

Harry waited until sundown and made his way to the south side of the depot. The dragon part of him wanted to go ranging and mark its territory. It wanted to explore all of the new smells and maybe hunt some prey. The human part of him was still coming to terms with his transformation, and wanted to know how to be a dragon. The dragon part wanted to show him. Leaving the grounds and crossing the road let him slip into the forest. It was part of the same woods where he and Hermione had practiced their magic. This section was rather thinly forested, and there were a few houses which weren't too far away that had cut their properties out of the woods. It was an area that was frequented by many of the people who lived in the area, especially the children. So maybe he should have been less surprised when a little girl spotted him and gave a startled gasp. He was more shocked that he hadn't heard the child than anything else. Though it was still surprising that such a young girl was there alone after dark. She couldn't have been more than five or six; only a few years younger than Harry.

Harry mentally cursed. He was found out after less than a day. He should have been more careful. The girl had tensed up and was sitting perfectly still, eyes wide and uncertain. The girl obviously couldn't see as well as Harry in the thin light of the moon, but she subconsciously knew that a large predator was standing near her and she that she didn't want its attention to fall on her. She didn't know that Harry had already seen her. He could have run away, and almost did. She hadn't gotten a good look and anything she said about 'dragons' would be ignored by the adults. But he could smell the salty tears that had fallen freshly from her face. He could smell her fear, and not merely from his presence. She had been frightened well before he arrived.

Was she lost?

The dragon part of him instantly classed her as a thrall; not a prey to be eaten but instead something to dominate and be made to serve him. His human side recoiled from that thought so strongly it physically hurt. Harry calmly took control of his dragon instincts and forced them to recede. He was not an animal driven by base instinct. He was a sentient mind capable of rational thought and feeling emotion. He sympathized with the child, who was as lost and alone as he was, and who needed his help. Hermione would have been ashamed of him for even thinking of doing anything else. He wanted so badly to live up to Hermione's expectations of him that the dragon instincts returned, but this time they considered the girl to be a wyrmling out of her nest and wanted only to protect her. Both Harry and the human part of his mind were much more accepting of that interpretation.

He sighed and decided that he wouldn't leave her there. He stepped over to her and leaned forward to sniff at her, taking in her smell. She held her breath as he brought his head near hers and trembled when he snorted. His whiskers brushed against her cheek and she giggled at the touch. Harry would have smiled if he still had a human mouth. He liked that he could make her laugh and nuzzled her some more. It turned out that she was very ticklish. She started talking to him, even if he couldn't talk back or answer. She informed him that her name was Michelle and that she liked the color teal, and then asked what color he liked. He blew air at her hair and she made a scrunched face before telling him that his breath smelled.

Then for no reason she started crying again and said that she missed her mom and dad and that she couldn't find her way home and she had been wandering forever and ever and begged him to please help her. Harry nodded at her and she sniffled and thanked him. It wasn't hard to track her scent back the way she had come. He nudged her gently with his snout and she seemed to understand that he wanted her to stand up. She got shakily to her feet and he nudged her again, perhaps harder than he intended. She stumbled and almost fell, but he grabbed the back of her shirt with his lips and caught her just in time. Deciding that she couldn't see in the dark, he held her up and carried her through the woods back the way she came. She was deathly silent the entire time, but at least her trembling had stopped.

After about ten minutes Harry could see lights ahead. A flying bug of some kind landed near his eye and he flapped his wings in irritation until it went away. The forest ended and there was a street with a row of houses on the other side. About five police cars were pulled up outside one of the houses with lights flashing blue. He stopped before he came too far out of the shadows and set the girl down. She just stood there for a moment before she looked back and held out her hand to touch his snout. He blew a breath of hot air through her fingers and it puffed up her shirt. She smiled and then looked back towards her home.

Harry could hear the people inside, distraughtly telling the police that their daughter had been playing out front when she went missing. The police had already searched the part of the forest near the road and were waiting on search-and-rescue dogs to go deeper into the woods. Another policeman was quietly discussing the possibility of a kidnapping, and was sending other officers to talk with the neighbors about any suspicious cars they might have seen loitering on the road.

The dragon part of him wanted her to be safe and protected. She was only a little wyrmling. {Magic Bestow Safety} " ** _Lu Enfan Tahriik_**." He whispered. They were new words, but even to himself it sounded like a cross between a growl and a cough. When nothing happened after several moments he assumed that he had garbled whatever the words were meant to accomplish.

When another car arrived with dogs in it, Harry knew it was time to send the girl on her way. He gave the girl a gentle nudge and she started forward. She walked slowly at first, and then stopped and glanced back at him. He gave what he thought was an encouraging grunt and she turned back and ran towards her house. About halfway there she started making high pitched shrieking noises in her excitement. She got the attention of the police very quickly, who came rushing over to scoop her up and carry her home to her parents.

She was babbling about a dragon that found her and then carried her all the way back and how it was 'just over there' in the woods. Her parents would have dismissed it as nonsense, except that the back of her shirt -where the 'dragon' had gotten hold of her- was torn lightly and it had seemingly been pinched in _something's_ mouth. And it was still coated with saliva. They immediately told the police. The search-and-rescue dogs were refusing to get out of their cars and were whining piteously at their handlers. That set the police on edge, and made them hesitant to go looking for whatever stray animal had found the girl.

Harry decided she would be fine and left before his presence caused more trouble.

XXXXXXXXXX

Clouds had swept in around midnight and the moonlight was obscured. Harry wandered the darkened forest, looking for something else to eat. He had found a few berry bushes earlier, and even though they hadn't looked safe he found they smelled alright and an experimental taste revealed them to be delicious. He ate a whole bush, and left the rest for another night. He was only mildly hungry, which surprised him considering it had been over a day since he last had anything substantial to eat. But he didn't want to wait until he was starving to try to find food.

There: a rustling in the trees.

His eyes locked onto the squirrel near the top of a tree and he shook his head. Even if he could figure out how to fly it wouldn't be worth the bother. As it stood he was unwilling to risk hurting himself if he fell from the tree while trying to climb. He continued on, trying to be as quiet as possible. He slinked through the trees with catlike grace and suppleness, touching hardly any branches at all. But he wasn't perfectly silent; old leaves and twigs scrunched and snapped beneath his steps. As a piece of bark cracked where his claw crushed it, he heard a sudden huff. He instantly stilled all movement, craning his neck to listen.

He thought he knew where the sound had come from, and moved much more slowly towards his prey. Each step was watched and considered before he allowed any weight to touch the ground, and his approach was muted. There was another huff, closer but quieter than before, and the animal settled back down. He could smell it now, though he still didn't know what it was. He continued to advance towards where it hid. He could now hear its shallow breathing and even its heartbeat. He was almost upon it.

It was an adolescent deer, with a budding rack just starting to form on its head. It must have sensed that something was wrong. Maybe it could smell him now that he was so close. Either way, it blinked awake and jumped to its feet, bolting away from him. His dragon instincts took over and he gave chase, charging after it and pouncing upon its back. His hind feet clenched, causing it to scream and thrash. Then he managed to get his mouth to its throat and it was over. He ate quickly, instinct guiding him to feast upon his first kill. The dragon part of his mind was sated by the hunt and the meal.

XXXXXXXXXX

Having made it back to the train depot without being seen, Harry slept again through the day. In his dreams he chased after his **_Dii_** but every time he got close she was taken further from him and he was never able to catch her. When he woke he thought briefly about being human again, because even though being a dragon was really amazing, he was scared of what was happening and the human part of him had never felt more alone. He had no one to talk to and hadn't yet managed to make human sounds with his new mouth. He was getting close, but it was very boring and frustrating to keep trying. His attempt at 'hello' sounded more like 'ellah' and that was stretching the interpretation.

Despite his longing for human companionship, he wasn't really sad. In fact, however strange all this was, he actually felt more like a dragon than a boy. As if his dragon body was more natural than his human he had been. He couldn't really describe the feeling, but it was definitely there. He wanted Hermione to be there with him. She would know what to do, either to help him deal with being a dragon or to get him back to being a human. Maybe she could even learn how to be a dragon and they could fly away together. It was the dragon part of him that was thinking that, but the human part didn't think it would mind as long as he was with her.

Deciding that not being able to fly was a great disadvantage for a dragon, Harry set about learning. He went to the big room in the engine bay, where the ceiling was two stories up and the ground had a cylindrical drop where trains could be spun around. Climbing onto the rusted catwalk, he flapped his wings and tried to stimulate his instincts to show him how to fly. His dragon body was much studier than his human one had been and he judged that he could survive the fall, so he jumped and held his wings out.

The membranes of his wings were stretched taut by the air rushing past as gravity pulled him down. His wings caught the air and he jerked forward in a glide, picking up speed quickly. He had to fold his wings and drop the rest of the way to the floor to keep from slamming into the far wall. He slid to a halt, leaving long scratches in the floor with his claws.

Harry reasoned that to be a success. He was unharmed and learned quite a bit about how his wings worked. Next he tried flapping his wings. The motion was nearly instinctive, but only brought him to a hover just off the ground. He couldn't figure it out. Maybe he just wasn't big enough to fly yet. Was his dragon body as young as his human one had been? He didn't know.

A few more attempts at falling and gliding and then jumping and flapping taught him that to gain height he needed to be moving forward and flapping his wings at the same time. He could curve the rear edges of his wings just so, as to generate lift like a fixed wing aircraft. But that alone wasn't enough and he also needed to flap his wings to actually gain altitude. It was quickly tiring, and he couldn't see himself being able to fly for long distances. Even though his body was very light for his size, it was still very heavy for flight.

When it got a little later and a lot darker he once again slipped out into the forest. This time he wasn't hunting, but playing. He raced through the trees as quickly as he could, bounding forward and then jumping into the air before spreading his wings and flapping them for height before gliding to the ground. He was careful not to go higher than the treetops, and although he had a few accidents with branches that he couldn't avoid, he otherwise he had a marvelous time.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two days after he found the girl lost in the woods, Harry ventured back into that area of the forest. He was surprised to scent fresh meat soon after he arrived. He was not typically a scavenger, but he wouldn't pass up a free meal. He hadn't really been hungry, but then again he had been hunting every night. The squirrels that avoided him the first night because of their shelter in the trees were no longer safe. Chasing after them made great practice for flying, and his claws had no trouble latching onto branches.

He found the site of the meat and stopped short. It was a ham. An entire ham left sitting on a tree stump, wrapped in paper to keep insects away. It was close to the edge of the trees and in clear view of the house across the street. It was the same house where the little girl lived. Harry stared at the ham for a long moment, debating what to do. Was this some kind of offering to thank him for saving the girl? Or was it a trick, to trap him somehow?

He carefully examined the stump and the area around it, but found nothing. He strained his ears to listen for any sound.

"See daddy! See! I told you it was a dragon!" The little girl said. She was inside the house, and they had seen him despite the shadows he hid in. He slinked back into the trees, out of direct view of the house. "Isn't he going to eat it?" She asked sadly.

"Shhh…" A male voice admonished softly. "If you make too much noise you'll scare him away and he won't eat anything."

Harry decided that if they had already spotted him he had nothing to lose, and dashed forward in two swift bounds before opening his wings and flapping once. He swooped low to the ground and snatched the meat package with the claws of his left hand. He moved so swiftly that he was only in their sight for about two thirds of a second.

"Holy shit!" The man exclaimed.

"Language daddy!" The girl giggled. "I hope he likes it."

"I'm just glad he didn't like the taste of you, sweetums." He said. The thought of that predator holding his daughter in its mouth sent shivers of terror down his spine. Harry was already out of hearing range, or he would have had cause to be more worried. "I still can't believe that thing exists. But at least I've got the evidence to prove it."

Harry devoured the ham quickly, but when he finished he decided that he wouldn't be hunting for a few days. While he wasn't sure how much a dragon needed to eat, he didn't want to eat more often than he needed. The game was already becoming scarce in this area of the forest.

XXXXXXXXXX

After three more days of fasting he still wasn't hungry. Harry had found a spring fed stream that smelled clean and had been drinking from it daily. He found that his water consumption was higher when he was more active, as he had been the past few nights. But apparently the sun alone was enough to feed him. He soaked it up like a plant every day as he slept, and woke up with a feeling of boundless energy. That evening he decided to try breathing fire. He hadn't yet figured out how to do so, or even accidently produced anything resembling a flame. But he hadn't really been trying, either, so maybe that was why.

He had been gathering a few pieces of wood from the edge of the forest and dragged it back to the train depot every morning when he came back from the forest. He took a piece from his pile of firewood and tossed it into the pit of the railroad roundtable. Then he stared at it intensely and tried to will it to burn. After several minutes of glaring ineffectively at the wood, he exhaled sharply at it. It rolled over but didn't burn. Harry gave a draconic harrumph and sat on his tail. His instincts were thus far of no help. He tried blowing at it, spitting at it, hissing at it, growling at it, and finally roaring at it. Though that last one he did only once and immediately regretted making so much noise. He didn't want to be discovered, but nothing he had tried had worked.

As his failures built, he lamented aloud with a groan of frustration. {Fire-Burn} " ** _Yol Ag!_** " He spat, and a burst of fiercely intense flames tore through the air before him. He stared in awe as the wood was instantly engulfed in fire and in just a few moments was nothing more than a pile of charred black chips of carbon and white smoldering ash. He blinked at the ash pile that was once a log, and noted the faintly glowing concrete around it.

He stood completely still as a revelation dawned upon him. Then he grinned despite the rigidity of his mouth and tossed another few logs into the pit. {Fire} " ** _Yol!_** " He shouted, causing a small ball of fire to form in the air in front of him and blast forward to set the wood alight. {Burn} " ** _Ag!_** " He tried, and a stream of heat shot towards the other pile. The dry wood withered in the heat and eventually burst into flame. It was not as instantly devastating as the first word but it was a much hotter fire.

He might still be struggling with human words, but apparently the words he instinctively used to trigger his magic were easily adapted to his dragon form. If anything they seemed more natural to him now. And that meant that he _could_ go out in daylight. He knew the words to make himself undetectable and unnoticeable. {Vanished-Unseen-Hidden} " ** _Vognun Vonun Soven._** " He called, testing the words. They took form and he felt their power blanket him. He let loose an excited dragon warble and a series of happy yips.

He decided to go to sleep early. He would try flying in the sunlight tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXXX

The first light of dawn saw Harry blinking awake and stretching. His tail whipped about in his eagerness to get started, and he keenly watched as the sun rose higher. About thirty minutes later he felt it was time, and spoke the words of concealment. {Vanished-Unseen-Hidden} " ** _Vognun Vonun Soven._** " He invoked, and the magic once again settled upon him. He left the engine bay and stepped out into the cool morning air. The train depot was still and empty. He settled himself into a crouch. His rear legs flexed and his tail wagged just a bit, his wings stretching and retracting in good order. He imagined himself doing a series of checks like a human pilot would before flying an aircraft. His rudder-wings flapped on his tail and his whiskers tested the air.

With another dragon warble he shot forward, bounding with powerful strides that turned into a single climactic leap into the sky. His wings unfurled and caught the air, and with a mighty surge of flight he whooshed upwards. That was when he discovered how a dragon was really meant to fly. The sun gave him energy and strength, but it also warmed the air and he instinctively caught the currents and gained tremendous altitude very quickly. With the sun upon him and the thermals rising in the air he could fly indefinitely. He slowly spiraled away from the train depot, memorizing the territory from above.

Then Harry felt the faintest of whispers heave at his soul and he wheeled about in the air.

His **_Dii_** was calling to him.

His direction set, he flew rapidly away.

XXXXXXXXXX

Interlude: A Sequence of Misfortunate Outcomes

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office as the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His attention was drawn to his monitoring charms for the blood wards he placed upon the Dursleys residence on Number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. Either the monitors themselves were malfunctioning or something had gone very terribly wrong with the wards. He checked over his monitors with a few diagnostic charms, and found nothing wrong. He had to call his watcher! He immediately dashed to his office floo and threw a handful of the green floo powder into the fire.

"Arabella!" He called into the fireplace. Green flames licked harmlessly at his face. "Arabella has something happened with Harry?"

Mrs. Arabella Figg came running into her living room. "Albus!?" She asked. "I was just going to call you. There seems to be some trouble at the Dursleys with the muggle police."

Albus immediately stepped back and refreshed the floo by throwing more powder into the fire before he traveled to Mrs. Figg's house. "Walk with me and tell me everything you know." He said, heading for the door.

"Not much I'm afraid. Just went out to check the mail and I saw the police in front of the house. There were six cars, Dumbledore. There's only two police cars in the city." She shook her head. "If they called in the county police, it must be bad."

"Then I shall make haste to discover what has happened." He said, quickening his stride and leaving her behind.

When he approached, the police officer at the end of the Dursley's driveway held up his hand. "Hold it." He said. "Who are you?"

"A concerned party." Dumbledore said. He did not even bother with his wand, instead throwing a weak _Confundus_ curse with his bare hand.

"Oh very well then." The officer said convivially. "I'm sorry but you still can't go in there. Not until forensics sweeps the place for evidence."

"What happened?" Dumbledore inquired. When the man seemed to hesitate he insisted. "You can tell me. I'm supposed to know."

"Well since you're meant to be here and all I guess it's okay." The officer smiled. "Them Dursleys had another kid living with them, supposedly the nephew of the wife. The boy was orphaned back when he was little more than a toddler. Anyhow there was a bunch of reports on them abusing the kid. Awful thing is they were never acted on. Kept getting 'lost' or 'misfiled' or just never followed up."

Albus Dumbledore got a very sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He recognized the work of the blood wards protecting the residents of the home. His own protection had been turned against his purpose by some of the very people he sought to keep safe. He dreaded what the man would say next. He could only hope he wasn't too late to help Harry.

"Anyhow those reports got unlost a few days back and child services came looking." Which was about when the blood wards had collapsed and were no longer protecting the home. "Only they didn't find the boy because they were too late. Found his room though." He spat on the ground. "Cupboard under the stairs." He explained, gesturing with his hand. "About five feet by three feet with a slanted ceiling that was too short to stand upright." He said. "And a little crayon scrawl on the wall saying 'Harry's Room' for anyone that cares to look. Mattress had blood on it when they came in. Fresh stuff on the pillow. Got the Dursley's son Dudley talking, and to hear him say it 'the Freak' as they call him is little more than a slave. Apparently he hit their boy Dudley, so Vernon Dursley hit him over the head with a chair and sent him to his cupboard with no mind to the blood coming from his head. Supposedly he ran away that night and they haven't seen him since. Going theory is the boy got a concussion from the blow and died that night, and the Uncle disposed of the body somewhere."

Dumbledore shuddered slightly and a few tears fell down his cheeks. He narrowed his eyes and spoke with a voice as cold as death and even less forgiving. " _Then I shall have to have a_ _ **talk**_ _with Vernon Dursley_." He said.

There was no rest for the old and weary.

XXXXXXXXXX

Gregory Hamilton was having a _very_ bad day. Greg, as he was known by his friends, was the middle aged head of the Muggle Worthy Excuses Committee. And just hours ago his office was thrown into the biggest mess since the Dark Lord Voldemort attacked a family of a muggleborn at an international sporting event. That was the last time in recent memory that _the Statute_ had been invoked, and the International Confederation of Wizards had made sure that Magical Britain had paid for it. The only good thing had been that the ICW threatened to step in if their civil war kept spilling over onto the muggle side of things. Enforcing The Statute was more important than any magical nation's sovereignty.

That threat had greatly curtailed the Dark Lord Voldemort's attacks, as not even he would risk the consequences of an ICW censuring. If this current disaster got out of hand they would need to use _the Statute_ again, and he wasn't sure Magical Britain would survive the political fallout. The ICW might decide that their government was incompetent and simply take over and establish an interim government until such time as they felt Magical Britain could handle their own affairs again.

"It's not as though it's anyone's fault." Greg was being told by Samuel, another committee member and a liaison with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. "It's not a breed we've ever seen before, we have no idea where it ranges or how it got where it was spotted. Those are realistic justifications to throw at the ICW."

"Nevertheless it was seen inside our borders and we'll be the ones taking the hit if it comes down to it." Nathanial, Gregory's boss and the Director of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, was saying. "We need to do damage control and we need to do it now!"

Greg needed to know more first. "What's the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures saying? We shouldn't do anything until they catch it; otherwise it could backfire worse than before if it gets sighted again."

Nathanial shook his head. "They haven't had any luck finding it. We need something now. I've called in my contacts in the muggle media and they've cut the story, but that doesn't stop what was already in circulation."

"Pass it off as a hoax." Samuel suggested. "Just a muggle getting fancy with his camera."

Greg sighed. "There were dozens of photos and a video, all done with professional cameras. The man who shot the evidence does work for National Geographic. He is a respected photographer and laying it out as a hoax that he pulled would destroy his career."

"Well too bad!" Nathanial said. "It's his own fault for publishing the pictures. If the choice is between sparing his career or protecting Magical Britain from the burden of another invocation of _the Statute_ , I know what the minister will choose." He looked at Samuel. "Make it happen."

Greg ground his teeth to keep from saying what he thought of that. Instead he reiterated his previous point. "But if this thing gets spotted again we'll lose all credibility, and then we'll no longer have control over how the information goes out." His voice fell on deaf ears.

XXXXXXXXXX

Albus Dumbledore was visiting the Dursleys at the muggle police station. The police had been kind enough to escort them into an interrogation room and allow him unmonitored access after only a few _Confundus_ curses. Vernon Dursley was currently passed out; head slumped against the table as blood leaked from his nose. Albus had not been gentle with his legilimency, but he had needed the truth. His only consolation was that the man had not been lying to the police. Harry really had disappeared on his own that night. Hopefully he escaped to somewhere safe. Albus stared into Petunia's eyes. "How could you let this happen to your own flesh and blood? He was your sister's son!"

She looked away, unable or unwilling to answer him.

He sighed. "I will have to find him, and if I am not lucky enough to find somewhere safe to place him, he will have to be returned to you. Trust and believe if that happens that I will _enforce_ better behavior from your family. For the past eight years I have allotted almost three hundred pounds a month for his care and wellbeing, yet he has not a single set of clothes that were bought for his own use. He spent many nights going hungry, forbidden from eating a meal which he had prepared for you! And he lived _in a cupboard_ under your stairs, when you had not one but two spare rooms in your home! That does not even begin to account for the general mistreatment and slander you have done against him. You used him as a slave and treated him as less than human. Your actions are disgusting beyond words."

Dumbledore got up and left them to their thoughts. He knew there were no other close blood relatives left to the boy. His relation to the house of Black was not near enough for him to go to Andromeda. Harry's grandmother, Dorea Potter née Black, had been from a different branch of the family. Thankfully that also cut Narcissa Malfoy née Black from contesting his placement. His only real option would be to have Harry blood adopted into another magical family. The only ones with wards strong enough to protect him from those who would seek him out would be the House of Bones or the House of Longbottom, both of whom were longtime allies of the House of Potter.

It would not be a perfect solution, and might even put the Potter Lordship into question, unless certain precautions were taken before he was adopted by his new family. Madam Amelia Bones would be his first choice, but he knew she would likely seek to force a betrothal between Harry and her niece Susan. While strengthening the alliance between their houses would benefit both politically, Dumbledore did not want to do that to Harry. The boy deserved to choose who he would spend his life with. He likewise dreaded the thought of putting the boy under Madam Augusta Longbottom. She was much too harsh a woman, placing undo expectations upon her grandson and forcing him to conform to her idealized memory of her son. He was wary of putting Harry under her care. And whichever route he took, he would have no authority to revoke it after it was done. Harry would be a part of their family and they would be his legal magical guardian. He would have no recourse if Harry was unhappy.

And all of this planning was moot if he could not find the boy. He collected a few drops of the boy's blood from the police evidence locker and debated how to best use it. A divination with blood as a focus would let him see the boy, but not tell him where he was. He had been missing for almost five days, and anyone could have found him by now, if only by pure chance. If he was taken by another magical and held behind anti-disapparation wards Dumbledore would not be able to retrieve him. A tracking charm using the blood would point him in the right direction, even through wards, and triangulation would allow him to find the boy's general location. He decided that the charm would be the better choice, since it wouldn't risk the blood for potentially no gain and he could continue using it even after this situation was resolved.

As he was leaving the police station, a pearly-white jaybird patronus reached him. It was lucky that the patronus charm was invisible to muggles, though they still felt the effects of happiness and joy when one was nearby. A voice sounded from the ghostly bird. "Dumbledore, it's Greg, we have a situation that needs your attention right away…"

There was no rest for the old and weary.

XXXXXXXXXX

The girl was screaming at him to stop, but the ministry obliviator ignored her and cast the incantation to rewrite the muggle man's memories. He was unprepared for the flash of boiling white light that blasted him across the room and into the shelves on the far wall. He snarled in anger and stood up. The muggle man, who was held immobile by a jinx and dazed from the failed obliviation, was trying to tell his daughter to run. The obliviator turned his wand to cast on the man's daughter when Dumbledore arrived with a soft pop. The poor girl was crying and seemed terribly afraid. She kept trying to get her dad to get up but he just sat there, unable to move. "I know you weren't about to cast _Obliviate_ on a child." Dumbledore said. "Because I know that you know that obliviations can cause permanent damage to an undeveloped brain."

The obliviator froze. "Of course not…" He hedged. "Just a quick forgetfulness charm to make it hard for her to remember. Then I have to finish the job with her dad. Not sure what happened there. The spell backfired rather badly. I'll be finished in a moment."

"I would rather you not." Dumbledore said. "I need to see their memories of the creature."

"Uhh… I ahh mean… the Magical Creatures Department already has the footage." He said.

"And for all that it was visible for half a second that should prove most useless in finding it. But by accounts the girl was with the creature for half an hour or more, and actually touched it." Dumbledore said. "Her knowledge of it could be invaluable. The faster this is resolved the better for Magical Britain's international standing." He paused, waving his wand to cast a diagnostic charm. "And if I don't miss my guess, the obliviation backfired because of a burst of accidental magic." He examined the girl more closely.

"Impossible." The obliviator said. "Nobody who lives here is on the register."

"If she wasn't before, she will be now." Dumbledore said. "I'm certain of that." He turned to face the obliviator. "A muggleborn's family is allowed to know about the magical world and is protected by law from obliviation. Your work here is done." His tone brokered no argument.

"I'll just… be going then." The obliviator hurried outside before vanishing with a loud pop.

Albus turned to face the family. Explaining this all to them was going to be a very long and uncomfortable conversation, and they already did not trust him. He released the man from the bindings with a wave of his hand and slipped a _Clear-Minded_ draught out of his pocket. "Drink this." He told him in a voice that brokered no argument. When the man hesitantly did so, then blinked and shook his head as clarity returned to his thoughts, Dumbledore began to explain. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the headmaster for the finest school for magic on the British Isles: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I know this is a lot to take in, and I apologize for the appalling rudeness displayed by the Ministry of Magic's handling of affairs with your family."

"Shepard White." The man offered. "And this darling little girl is my daughter Michelle."

"A pleasure to meet you both." Dumbledore said. "I only wish that it had been under better circumstances."

"What the h-" Shepard glanced at his daughter. "-eck is going on?" He was a rational person, but having seen a living dragon and the casual displays of magic from a score of 'witches' and 'wizards' over the last day had quickly changed his opinion of what was and wasn't possible.

"The footage you captured, of the dragon living in the woods across the street, has stirred up a great deal of trouble. For me to explain, you must understand that there are entire communities of magicals living separate from the mundane population. During a tumultuous century of persecution and senseless violence, it was decided to segregate and hide ourselves away from the muggles -those without magic- and we have maintained the secrecy of our existence for three hundred years. This was done by the establishment of a magical amendment that was ratified by nearly every magical community, called the Statute of Secrecy. It is magically enforced, making it so that muggles don't notice instances of magic that happen around them, and later forget about such happenings if they do notice. It is powered by a small amount of magic that is essentially… _taxed_ from every member of the magical communities that ratified it. It can also be invoked wholescale, to strip a particular breach of the Statute from the collective memories of everyone who witnessed it. Such a thing is not done lightly, and always carries awful sanctions as a consequence for those responsible for the breach."

"And my footage…" Shepard realized.

"Indeed. Magical Britain is being threatened with such sanctions because of the video you released to the press."

"I'm sorry, I guess." Shepard said. "But why are you still hiding?"

"Do you know what it is like to fear being burned alive at the stake?" Dumbledore asked, suddenly grave. "Do you know what it is like to have everyone demand that you use magic to solve their problems? Or to have those same people become irrationally angry when you don't because you can't? Magic doesn't scale very well. Industrialization has made it possible for almost all muggles to enjoy every modern convenience at very low cost. That sort of thing simply doesn't work with magic. 'All magic must be paid for.' A brilliant witch once said that, and in one way or another she was right. Nothing is free, even if we do not always see the cost. And there are very few magicals. Our last census found a little more than one magical for every thousand mundanes in the United Kingdom."

"I get that people centuries ago had some really twisted ideas about enforcing their beliefs on others, but we aren't like that anymore. Surely you can't think that people would still persecute you? And while people might be scared at first, they can be very understanding as well. Why don't you try revealing yourselves?"

"Mr. White, we _have_ tried. The most recent attempt sparked world war one, which continued despite our efforts to prevent it even after the Statute was invoked. Archduke Ferdinand was a wizard, and revealed himself as such to everyone. It was a test case, to see if the muggles were ready for us to reemerge. He was assassinated within two days. Admittedly, times have changed. The capacity of your nations to wage war has become far more terrifying. Mundane nations now have stockpiles of weapons capable of destroying entire cities in an instant, and machines that spit death and destruction as they roll over the homes and bodies of any who dare to obstruct them. Can you understand why we are reluctant to try again? There might not be a world left next time." Dumbledore sighed.

"I see." Shepard said. And he did understand, having lived through the fear of nuclear war and the tense hours of the Cuban Missile Crisis, when it was almost a certainty that conflict would erupt between the United States and the Soviet Union. "But it can't be healthy for a society to exist so closed off from the rest of the world."

"Indeed not." Dumbledore replied. "I will not say that our society is any better than yours, for truly we have our own problems. The fear of muggles has given rise to groups of witches and wizards who believe that they must step in and seize control over the mundane population, to prevent your petty disputes from destroying us all. Their benign propaganda is of course a thin lie to conceal their true motive to take power for themselves."

They sat in silence for a long moment. "I guess there's always that one bad apple." Shepard said. "So what happens now?"

"That is entirely up to you. If you were merely another muggle your memory would have been erased and we would have destroyed all evidence of the existence of magic and left it at that, but since your daughter displayed magic herself, a whole new issue is created. In my capacity as headmaster for Hogwarts, I will ensure that she receives an invitation to the school when she is of age. There is a standard procedure for introducing muggleborns -those with magic born to mundane families- into the magical community. But it would not have been done for some years yet. Your situation is unique in that respect, and if my suspicions are correct then you will need to be aware of things sooner."

"Why is that?"

"Your daughter has magic, yet she wasn't on the registry." At Shepard's confused look, Dumbledore explained. "The registry is an enchanted book, tied into the lay-lines themselves. It is an ancient artifact that has never failed to detect a person born with magic since it was created roughly two thousand years ago. It was made by Celtic druids, and later given as a gift to the founders of Hogwarts."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that your daughter was born without magic; which creates the mystery of how she now has it. I am hopeful that her memories of the night she vanished will provide an answer."

"You think that the dragon somehow gave her magic?" Shepard guessed.

"Indeed. That was my theory."

"Does that sort of thing happen?"

"No. It does not. Though there _are_ legends." He paused to consider. "Magic has been around for longer than recorded history, but there are some tribes that practice magic, who once passed their stories down in the form of memories given from one member of the tribe to another. Sometimes the keepers of these memories would die without passing them on, and they became lost to us, but others thought to create a written account of them, so that they would be preserved for the future. It is said that in the earliest memories of these tribes, dragons came to the world from elsewhere. They had the voice, and were wise beyond the ken of men. But they were cursed; their children were born weak and as beasts, without the voice. And though those first dragons were immune to the passage of time, they could still die from injury. Their race was dying out. The first dragons then found the race of man and gave some among them the gift of magic, so that some part of their legacy would remain."

"So how can I help? They took the film, and all of the stills I printed."

Dumbledore turned to Michelle. "I actually need your help, if you are willing to grant it."

She blinked up at him. Having spent the entire conversation quietly listening to the adults, she was surprised to be spoken to. She looked at her father, who nodded encouragingly. "Okay."

Dumbledore smiled at her. "This is quite a simple thing; really, I just need you to think about that night in the forest." He met her eyes with his own, and his faintly twinkled. "Now concentrate on what happened." He brought his wand up to his temple and slowly drew it back, pulling out a silvery strand which he quickly bottled in a vial he pulled from his robe. "Thank you. That was all I needed."

"That felt weird." Michelle said.

Her father looked sharply at Dumbledore, who smiled reassuringly. "What do you mean sweetie?" Shepard asked.

"It was like I was back in the forest and lost all over again. But I wasn't really so I wasn't as scared this time." His daughter explained.

"I used a technique to view her memories of that night, and then pulled my own memory of that experience to review later. I will say this. I have seen dragons, and studied their magic extensively. I assure you that, although they are more intelligent and cunning than any other animal, they are not the equal to their legends. The greatest among them has the intelligence of a ten year old. Which is impressive, don't misunderstand me, and dragons have been accorded the rights of near-sentience and are a protected species. But there are dozens of magical races that are truly sentient. There are Goblins and Giants, Centaurs and Merfolk, Faeries and Veela, just to name a few. They are all at least the equal of men. Some centaurs live to be almost a thousand years old, and become very wise and knowledgeable in that span time. The elder centaurs easily surpass even my own understanding of the world."

"In a thousand years of study?" Shepard muttered. "I can believe that."

"Just so." Dumbledore nodded. "But that returns us to the conundrum at hand. The dragon in your daughter's memories did something, just before it pushed her to leave the forest." He paused, and Shepard would have sworn that he did it just to be dramatic. "It _spoke_ to her." He said. "I do not recognize the language, and I can't seem to make myself focus on the words. It's as if they just slide away from my thoughts and I find it impossible to concentrate on them. They were definitely some form of magic, and whatever it intended was directed at Michelle." He sat back on his heels and grinned like an excited child. "If that dragon is like the first ones from the old legends, then this could be the most significant discovery in a thousand years. This could very well prove the origins of magic."

Albus Dumbledore quickly excused himself to go searching for the dragon. He promised to return later that evening and spend several hours filling the Whites in on the magical world and what they could expect for their daughter's future. He crossed the street and began casting scrying and detection spells, looking for any trace of the dragon. After the stress and worry of the morning he felt as though a great burden had been removed from him. It was an exciting time to be alive, with such wondrous happenings as talking dragons.

Of course, the reason he was so relieved and happy was that he had noticed something about the dragon: it had pitch-black scales and intensely green eyes, with a white lightning-bolt shaped scar upon its forehead. It seemed to Albus that he had found Harry Potter. But what in the name of Merlin happened to the boy!? And how did he become a dragon? Was it a spontaneous animagus transformation, or had he been transfigured into a dragon by an outside force? And what could do such a thing? Even wizards, with their immense magical reserves, couldn't hope to simply transform into a magical creature. In all of recorded history there were only a score of wizards that had managed it. And all of them sacrificed something to accomplish it.

There had been a trace of unidentifiable magic on the boy the night he survived Voldemort's killing curse. Albus had assumed that it was part of whatever ritual Lily Potter used to save her son. That same odd magic was lingering where he stood, in the same spot where the dragon had spoken to Michelle. Despite the dragon having been all over this area, the trace was only there, proving that it was tied to the strange words and not the dragon itself. He couldn't use it to track the dragon, and he realized that the blood he collected was unlikely to work either. Not if the boy had become a dragon. The blood would be too different from him now to follow it back to him.

But he had hope, and as long as Harry still lived he could set things right with the boy. All he had to do was find him. He glanced around at the very large forest stretching out before him…

There was no rest for the old and weary.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione sat in her room with the door locked, huddled under her covers as she cried herself to sleep. Her gran had called that morning, and after speaking with her parents had wanted to talk to her. Hermione had been hoping she had a reply from Harry. Instead she had only the most awful news to give. Harry was missing, and the police believed that the Dursleys had killed him. Her first and only friend, her **_Dii_** , was gone forever. She took the books about magic that were sitting on her nightstand and threw them across the room. She cried and wailed and screamed at how awful the world was, until her throat was dry and she couldn't cry anymore. It wasn't fair. He was _hers_. She shouldn't have left. She should have told her parents that she wanted to stay with her gran. It was all her fault that this happened. She found that she wasn't quite as empty of tears as she thought.

{Mine} " ** _Dii_**!" She cried out as exhaustion finally carried her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**It should be obvious, but must declare that I own no rights to the Harry Potter story or the Elder Scrolls game or any of their characters. All such ownership belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bethesda Softworks. Only characters of my own creation are not theirs, and I reserve no rights upon them, so if they catch your fancy feel free to use them.**

* * *

Chapter Three: Of Strange and Wondrous Tidings

Albus Dumbledore sat back as Severus Snape, his potions professor and head of Slytherin house, and Minerva McGonagall, his transfiguration professor and head of Gryffindor house, submersed themselves in the memories within the school's pensive. He didn't have to wait long before they emerged. "So? What are your opinions?"

Severus spoke first. "That was… amazing and terrifying all at once." He said honestly. "I saw how quickly that dragon moved. If I was standing where that meat was, I wouldn't have been able to do more than start to draw my wand, and I'm a fast-cast duelist." In fact he had won several small competitions purely on his skill to draw his wand and cast a rapid series of spells the very instant the duel began, well before his opponent had time to react. "And what it did with the girl…" He looked at Minerva. "You said she's on the registry now? It literally _gifted_ her with magic? So she's what…? A dragon-blessed witch? There was supposedly a dragon-blessed wizard a few centuries ago… If word of this gets around she'll be as famous as Potter." He grimaced. "And every magical government in the world will be hunting for that dragon."

"But the dragon!" Minerva said. "Didn't you see it Severus? The scar! It was exactly the same. It was him. It was Harry Potter!" Severus blinked at her and immediately dove back into the pensive for another look. Minerva stared at Dumbledore in wonder. "How did this happen, Albus? And what do we do?"

"As to the first, I honestly don't know. And as to the second, we have to find him and do our best to help him in any way we can. I don't know if he can even return to being human, but we can't let him be captured by the ministry or anyone else." Dumbledore said. "I spent the better part of six hours trying to track it down, but those woods are huge, and it can obviously fly, so it could potentially range much further afield. It hasn't been spotted yet, but its scales are pitch-black and if it flew at night it wouldn't be seen easily."

"I think you might be right about that dragon being Potter. The resemblance is uncanny." Severus said with a sigh. He had withdrawn from the pensive and was rubbing his temples to stave off the approaching headache that always came after immersing in another person's memories. "And dragons don't really fly at night." He said. "They need thermals to fly any great distance, and they get a lot of energy from the sun, rather than food. A mature dragon actually needs very little nourishment." Minerva and Dumbledore were both staring at him. He sneered at their underestimation of his knowledge. "I'm a potions master; I need to know these kinds of things about potential ingredients. A dragon's scale can be used in a potion that makes plants grow significantly faster, because it passes the sun-absorbing properties onto the plant."

Albus held up his hands placating, not wanting Severus to go off on one of his rants. "I didn't mean to question your expertise. It just surprised me that you had such intimate knowledge of dragons. I didn't expect it of you." He coughed lightly. "Anyhow, I'm hoping to enlist both of you tomorrow to help search the area."

Severus nodded. "I have a potion that needs some tending in the morning. I can start any time after lunch."

Minerva shook her head. "I have three muggleborn introductions to see to. I won't be free until four in the afternoon -at the earliest."

Albus nodded understandingly. "That's fine. I'll use tomorrow morning to ensure that the ministry puts people who owe me favors in charge of their hunt for the dragon. That way if they find him first we can still hopefully keep him safe."

Minerva and Severus agreed that that was a good idea, and all three left his office with thoughts of dragons and Harry Potter on their minds.

* * *

It was evening when Harry turned and began his descent, his wings shifting effortlessly to shape his flight. He had doubled back twice, combing the area until he was certain that this was the place. His **_Dii_** had not called him again since that morning, and he had traveled in a straight line towards her call without knowing if he had reached her or passed her. There was the faintest of threads upon his soul, a wisp of their love and bond which made a tangible connection between them. This was something he could feel, but only in so far as it grew stronger or weaker the closer or further he was from her. He was over two hours past his current location, having overshot by an enormous margin before he realized that he was losing his ability to sense his **_Dii_** and knew to turn back.

He landed near the city center and tried to pick out her scent, but there had been far too many people passing there and a light rain and the open air had washed away their smells. He wandered the streets for a while, carefully avoiding cars whenever he crossed the road, and renewing his concealment as often as he remembered. Using the words so frequently had begun to weaken him, and his fatigued power faded much faster than it had that morning, forcing him to refresh it again and again, further draining him. He needed to rest soon. He happened across the city library and immediately made his way towards the door. Opening it was a challenge, and he actually found it easier to use his tail to pull the handle rather than his clawed hands. It was a handicap he would have to learn to overcome. He was certain that he could be quite dexterous, despite his more limited range of motion. Like Hermione always told him to when confronted with a difficult problem: he just needed to practice, have patience, and persevere. Once he had slipped inside, he began searching for her scent again. And he found it! But it wasn't very fresh. Still, he was excited and relieved. He had proof that she had been here!

He didn't notice that the librarian was locking the front until she had already shut the door and left for the night. But as much as he wanted to continue to seek out his **_Dii_** he was utterly exhausted from the many hours of flight and the prolonged and overuse of his power. The library was a nice enough place to sleep for the night. He found a soft carpet on the floor of the kids section and curled up on it, tucking his head under his wings and drifting off to sleep…

* * *

He was awoken abruptly by the startled gasps of a little boy and the four other kids who all rushed in behind him and stared in amazement. He blinked lazily, and one of the two girls shrieked and ran away when he lifted his head to look at them. Normally Harry would have been alerted as to their arrival by the noise as their cars parked or the door was opened, but his exhaustion from the flight of the previous day had been severe enough that he had slept through those softer sounds. A screaming girl, however, had him wide awake and ready for the day.

{Vanished-Unseen-Hidden} " ** _Vognun Vonun Soven._** " He voiced just in time as the librarian came running over. As Harry and Hermione had discovered when playing with those particular words, the concealment couldn't hide them from the sight of someone if they interacted with them in an obvious way. It made them completely uninteresting and simply not worth noticing, unless the person was focused on them already or if they interrupted something the person was focused on. The other means of breaking it was by bumping into them, since touch seemed to override the concealment. So when the librarian arrived and looked into the kid's area she saw nothing of interest.

The children insisted otherwise. "There's a dragon right there!" The tallest boy said.

"Don't you see it Miszuhs Ehm?" The littlest girl asked.

The librarian looked right where they were pointing, her eyes sliding off of the dragon and seeing only the carpeted floor. Then she glanced at the children who were still staring at the dragon which she could not see and harrumphed. Thinking it was some game the children were playing, she decided to play along. "Oh yes, that's a very nice dragon. Now it's okay to have fun and I appreciate a good imagination, but this is a library so keep it quiet in here." She scolded. She turned and _almost_ caught a glimpse of something in the corner of her eye, but ignored it and continued back to her desk.

If a dragon could look smug, Harry managed it with his self-satisfied grin.

The children watched her leave with a mixture of surprise and frustration. With apparent adult permission to play with the dragon, the youngest boy walked up to Harry and touched him with the flat of his hand. Harry allowed this resignedly, and laid his head back down on the carpet to enjoy the sunlight seeping in the window. The kids didn't know what to do with a dragon. None of them had ever seen one in real life before, let alone been so close to one.

"It's so warm." The boy said, petting his back slowly.

"Sssswah-orm." Harry agreed, closing his eyes.

The boy jumped back. "You can talk!" He exclaimed.

Harry opened his eyes again and fixed them on the boy, who seemed to freeze in place. "Oowwah-aating ffuuhhtt-fffuuh-oore **_Dii_**." He said slowly, and then turned his eyes back towards the window. His **_Dii_** would come. She could never go a day without visiting a library. And this one was large enough to put the one in Little Whinging to shame.

The boy looked to the others, who were staring in awe at the talking dragon and the boy bold enough to talk up and pet it. "What did he say?" He asked.

The oldest boy shrugged. "Sounded like he said he was waiting for something."

"Why does it have to be a boy? Maybe it's a girl dragon." The taller of the two girls said.

Harry snorted, making the group tense a little. "Aaah-hmm aahh bou-yah." He said.

"There see. He's a boy dragon." The young boy said.

"I wonder if there's any books on dragons?" The littlest girl asked.

Harry perked up at that and looked right at her, eager anticipation in his eyes.

"I think he likes that idea." The taller girl said with a giggle.

So the morning passed with the five children collecting all manner of books on dragons and reading interesting bits to him. He learned that the youngest boy was named Peter, but preferred to be called Pete, and was the younger sibling of the second oldest who was named Mathew. The oldest boy was named Kevin, and was friends with the older girl, who was named Darcy. The littlest girl was named Sally, and she was Darcy's younger sister.

Their parents were all friends, and the five had basically grown up together as a single family, even if they weren't all related. Kevin and Darcy were nominally in charge, having been given the duty of watching over the younger children by their respective parents. They made a trip to the library every few days because it was something to do and entertained the younger kids, who could pick out books to take home with them.

It was Sally who got him reading. "And the knight went uhh… g-galloping as-" She stopped. "I don't know that one." She said.

Harry peeked down. "Assst-rehye-deh." He tried.

"Astride." Kevin supplied without looking up from his comic. He had quickly become the only one capable of translating Harry's terrible articulation. "It means with a leg on either side."

Sally nodded and continued. "Astride his noble… steed." She finished with a grin. Harry diligently listened along as she read the next few pages and then tried another word at her prompting. This continued until eventually he was reading a word or two from every sentence. Harry would have sworn that this was her plan all along. Still, he didn't mind terribly. "Try this one." Sally insisted.

"Chh-haaar-rehged fuhh-fu-forrah." He flicked his tongue. "Cheh-arged fore-whhu-ard."

"That was better. Try again." Sally encouraged.

"Charge-ehhed… charged… forward." He managed. It _was_ better, he realized. He was learning how to use the strange shape of his mouth to make normal human sounds, and he was getting better very quickly. Encouraged, he tried to read the whole sentence. "Thuuhh kn-night charged forward whi-with his lance held h-high and drah-oveh it thrah-ooh thuuhh dragon's heart…" Harry scowled as only a dragon could. He didn't like these knights. "Ahhnnd sssuh-lew the beast." And this was the second story in which a knight killed a dragon. "Thuuhh knight theehh-hen bbrah-aut thuuhh princess up onto his steed and rah-ode back home."

The dragons in the stories seemed to be living peacefully with their **_Dii_** , sometimes for many years, when these knights in shiny armor rode up on fancy horses and attacked them for no reason. Admittedly the dragons had sometimes needed to rescue their **_Dii_** from some castle first, and maybe wrecked some buildings and burned some things in the process. But they shouldn't have tried to keep the dragons from their **_Dii_** , so it was really their own fault. Confining a dragon's **_Dii_** made no sense. But in the story the knight then hunted and killed the dragon, kidnapped the dragon's **_Dii_** in order to force her to marry him, and then shamelessly looted the dragon's horde to make himself rich. It was sickening.

"Aahhamm… _not_ … a beast!" Harry proclaimed. He flexed his claws in irritation.

Sally patted his flank affectionately. "Don't worry. I won't let any knights slay you."

He whiskered her face in appreciation, even though he knew she was only a little girl and probably couldn't stop a knight. She giggled and covered her face with her arms to avoid his whiskers. A few adults had come and gone, thankfully without seeing through his concealment, and one other child had wandered into the kid's corner. The poor boy had been amusingly confused by the 'game' that the other children were playing; until Harry tapped him on the shoulder with his tail and revealed himself to him. The boy hadn't stayed long, but he clearly thought a dragon secretly hiding out in the library was the coolest thing ever. Harry was having a good time, but it was almost an hour past noon and he was starting to grow anxious. His **_Dii_** hadn't come to the library yet, although her scent still faintly lingered from her last visit and it soothed him a little.

"What's wrong?" Sally asked.

"I miss {Mine} **_Dii_**." He said sadly. The word carried his pain at being separated from her.

Kevin looked up. "That's who you said you were waiting for?"

"Yes." Harry nodded. "Wait for… {Mine} **_Dii_**." Again the word held his determination to find her, to search forever if necessary.

Sally felt it and started crying. "He's just so sad!" She explained to her sister.

"Who or what exactly is Dee?" Darcy asked.

"{Mine} **_Dii_** is… {Mine} **_Dii_**." Both his love for Hermione and his total devotion to their friendship manifested in the echo of the word. All of the children felt it wash over them and were in awe of the sensation.

Sally stopped crying and sniffled a bit. "Is **_Dii_** a dragon too?" She asked.

Harry looked sharply at her. She had managed to invoke the word properly. She _understood_ the meaning he intoned and could share it, however imperfectly. He respected that. "{Mine} **_Dii_** … is girl. She… older than you." He nodded towards Sally. "Light… skin… brown… hair… eyes…" Harry seemed to lose himself in his memory. "Hurr-meh-i-onny." He murmured.

"That's her name? Hermione?" Darcy asked.

"Can't be a common one." Kevin said. "Bet we could find her in the records, if she ever got a library card." Harry turned his head in interest and sharply focused on the boy. "Need to know her last name though, since that's how it's sorted."

"Gra-nehge-ehhrr." Harry supplied.

"Granger." Kevin translated. "Hermione Granger."

"That's brilliant!" Mathew said. "I helped them move some books last year. The records are all downstairs."

"But we aren't allowed in there." Kevin pointed out. "You only got to go in because you were carrying stuff for them."

Harry harrumphed.

"Don't worry, we'll get in." Darcy said confidently. "All we need is a distraction."

"I can handle that." Mathew said. "I'll just say I lost my toad in here and cry a little. Missus M. will be putty in my hands. Not only will she be desperate to find it to stop me from crying, but she'll flip out about a toad crawling around inside." He grinned and clapped his hands excitedly. "Muahahaha."

"No more comic books for you." Kevin said sternly while tapping him on the head.

"Aww come on!" Mathew pleaded. "I'm just having fun."

"And you can't be the distraction anyhow." Darcy told him. "You're the only one of us who's ever been downstairs. We don't know where to look and we don't want to take too long or we'll be caught."

Harry decided to offer a solution. {Vanished-Unseen-Hidden} " ** _Vognun Vonun Soven._** " He voiced, covering them all with the words. They felt it settle upon them and looked at him curiously. "Not seen… heard… noticed…" He explained.

"That's why Missus M. couldn't see you!" Peter exclaimed.

Harry nodded and turned to face Mathew, waiting for him to lead them to the record room.

"Right then, follow me." Mathew said, turning to show them the way.

Slipping past the librarian was easy; unlocking the door to the basement was not. The six of them were stumped for a good three minutes until Darcy noticed that the hinges were on the outside. A dragon claw caught the edge of the bolt and Harry slipped them easily from their slots. Pulling the door away from the frame, they slipped inside and down the stairs. Navigating steps as a dragon was an interesting experience for Harry, filled with stumbling and sliding and not a few curse words. Finally they found the records. A few dozen file cabinets lined the wall, each drawer labeled alphabetically.

"Found it! Gn-Gz." Kevin said triumphantly.

Harry waited… and waited… it took another minute to find his **_Dii's_** registration card, and it was easily the longest minute he had ever endured.

"Let's see… address is one-three-oh-seven, Westwood Circle." Kevin paused and shrugged. "I don't know where that is."

"I do!" Sally exclaimed. "My friend Pep lives there!"

"How far is it?" Darcy asked. She wasn't about to let them all run off without knowing where they were going or how long it would take.

Sally grimaced. "It's a little far." She admitted. "You know where the recreation center is?" At her sister's nod she continued. "It's about a mile further down Westbury Road."

Darcy shook her head. "Way too far to walk. That's like five miles one way."

"We could get mom to drive." Peter suggested. "She should be home."

"Yea, but how would we explain the dragon?" Mathew asked. "I can hear it now." He continued in a false voice. "Mum? Can you give us a lift to the rec center? We're taking a dragon to go see his friend. Yea, you can't see him, but we need to take the back seat out of the minivan so he can fit."

Harry chortled. "Am… a dragon. Did you… forget?" He asked, flexing his wings and flapping them once. "Dragons… can fly."

* * *

Harry banked left and then right as he descended, keeping his flight in line with the van below him. When they pulled into a parking lot in front of a largish building he bled his speed with a few heavy flaps of his wings and landed on the grass beside the lot with a muffled thump. The concealment he had voiced over the children had faded quickly, and he had renewed it only upon himself. Still, he ensured that they could see him. Kevin and Darcy excused themselves, implying that they were going to spend some private time in each other's company. The mother acceded and took the three younger children, much to their protests, and herded them inside while the two oldest went for a 'walk' along the road.

Harry followed them as they led him to the address where his **_Dii_** was undoubtedly awaiting his return. He missed her so much it hurt. He could almost smell her scent. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that they had arrived and he actually _was_ smelling her.

"She is… here." Harry told his guides. "Thank you."

Kevin nodded and Darcy smiled at the dragon. "Not a problem." She said. "Besides, it was kind of cool to meet a dragon. How many people can honestly say they've done that before?"

"Well let's leave him to his friend." Kevin said, putting his arm around Darcy. "We can enjoy some time to ourselves."

"You wish." Darcy elbowed him lightly in the side, but she was grinning while she did.

They said goodbye and walked back down the road, leaving Harry to his thoughts. His tail curled about in indecision. He was a little afraid of how Hermione would react to him. Would she be afraid? Would she be mad? How could he explain _this_ to her? The house almost seemed to glow and pulse, like the stones did when Hermione filled them with too much magic. He hoped she hadn't been pouring magic into her house. It would _not_ be fun if something that large exploded. He shook his head and after working up the courage he strode up to the door and tapped the ringer lightly with the side of his claw. The ding of the bell sounded, but nothing inside the house stirred. He focused and listened, searching out for any sign of Hermione or her family, but the house was empty.

But there was someone in the yard behind the house; he could hear the heartbeat thumping.

Stepping back and stretching his wings, he flapped twice experimentally before launching himself into the air with a firm kick of his hind legs. Swooping to pick up speed he flapped again and rose above the house even as he circled around the side. He abruptly opened his wings wide and caught the air to stop himself, dropping lightly to the ground with a muted thud. While the neighbor's yard was fenced, Hermione's was open to the forest behind her house. The ground was green with grass and on a slight incline, with several trees in the yard itself and a dense wood just beyond the property.

He saw her sitting against a tree, a book held in her lap. But she wasn't reading, as the book was closed. Instead he heard her sniffling and then saw her clutch the book to her chest and cry in earnest. He immediately hurried forward to her. {Mine} " ** _Dii_**." He heard her say. The sadness and loss she intoned in their word hit him like a physical blow and he stumbled from the impact.

{Mine} " ** _Dii_**." He returned his love and reassurance. She looked up sharply, as though she had heard him, but only blinked in confusion when she couldn't see anything there. He brought his head down to hers and leaned forward to whisker her and break his concealment. {Mine Heart} " ** _Dii Hil_**." {Mine Soul} " ** _Dii Sil_**." He put everything that he was and everything that he felt for her into those words and prayed that she didn't reject him.

As his concealment faded and he was revealed to her, he saw her eyes widen and heard her steady heartbeat turn into a rapid pounding. She stared at him, shaking slightly, her eyes still puffy and red from crying as she finally remembered to breathe and took in a single ragged breath. Then her shaking stopped as she sat completely still. Harry whiskered her once more before he laid himself down carefully and stretched out in the grass beside her. Setting his head in her lap he looked up at her with his bright green eyes and gave a pitiful whine. Her eyes widened still further, a mixture of shock and disbelief. Then her thoughts caught up with her flight-or-fight reflex and she remembered his words.

{Mine} " ** _Dii?_** " She asked in disbelief.

He lifted his head to nod at her. {Mine} " ** _Dii_**." He assured her. "Don't be scared."

{Mine} " ** _Dii!_** " She exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and crying and sobbing. "Harry!? How? I thought… they said you _died!_ " He let loose a throaty purr and nuzzled her affectionately, offering whatever comfort he could to ease her distress. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. I shouldn't have left you there. Not alone. Not with those awful people. I'm such a terrible friend. Please forgive me Harry." She begged. "I'll never leave you again."

{Mine} " ** _Dii_**." He voiced, sending his love to her. His emotions washed over her and she started crying harder. "Not your fault. No need… to forgive." He said. "Still {Mine} **_Dii_**. Always {Mine} **_Dii_**. I'm… glad you don't mind that I'm… different."

That was when she finally realized that her friend had somehow become a dragon. As soon as she realized it was him, all other thoughts had fallen away as unimportant. In fact, after her initial fear had faded, it hadn't even felt weird. Instead it felt as though this was how it was supposed to be; as if Harry had always been a dragon and the only thing that had changed was that he now resembled one. She unwrapped herself from his neck to get a better look at him. "What happened? How did you turn into a dragon?"

Harry managed an almost-shrug with his wings. "Nightmare… afraid… lost {Mine} **_Dii_**." He sighed. "Wanted… so bad… to find {Mine} **_Dii_** again. Woke up… was… panic… delirium… Got outside… then pain… so much pain… then slept again and when woke was {Dragon} **_Dovah_**." Hermione had waited patiently for him to tell the story. He fumbled on his words only a little, but she seemed to understand well enough. "Fled {Abhorred Ones} **_Volor Gein_** …" He told her. "Found… shelter near woods… where we tried magic… stayed… hunted… lived… learned to be {Dragon} **_Dovah_** … Still missed {Mine} **_Dii_** every day. Then heard {Mine} **_Dii_** 's call and knew how to find. Went… seeking for {Mine} **_Dii_**. Now found {Mine} **_Dii_**." He said smugly.

"Oh Harry." She said, embracing him again. "None of this should have happened. And if I had been there it wouldn't have."

"Stop that." Harry exhaled, trying to shape the sound into words. "I already told you… it wasn't your fault. No more blame. You are {Mine Friend} **_Dii Fahdon_** , {Mine Love} **_Dii Lokaal_** _._ It hurts… when you hurt. And now you hurt yourself. {Foolish} **_Meyus_**."

All the new words he spoke, though she had never heard them before, all conveyed their meaning to her. She knew what he was saying, and what he intended to convey. And along with the knowledge of the words' meaning she knew that he truly believed what he said. She tried very hard to stop crying, to stop blaming herself for what happened. Her relief at having him return to her was tempered by her worry over his new body. How would they hide him? What would she tell her parents? They certainly couldn't risk him being seen! What if the government tried to capture him or kill him? She tensed. "Harry?" She asked. "Were you seen coming here?"

"No… I mean yes… sort of. I concealed myself with the words that hide things from being noticed, but only as I flew. As I got closer to you, it got harder to sense your direction. It felt like you were all around me. I found the town, but didn't know where to look for you. I wandered around until I smelled you at the library and then I stayed there, hoping you would visit and I could follow you home. The concealment faded while I was sleeping and a few children saw me. They were nice enough when they stopped screaming. The younger ones read me stories while I waited for you. Then they helped me break into the basement. We found your records and address and they showed me where you lived. They are the only ones that know anything."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "But they know about you _and_ they know where I live. That could be bad. The best advantage we have is that nobody will believe them if they say anything. We have to keep this secret." She said. "No one can know." She couldn't bear the thought. "I can't… I just can't lose you again!"

Her fears mirrored his own so closely that he could only nod.

"We'll be careful." She promised him. "No one will find out. And as long as those kids don't say anything then we'll have nothing to worry about." She grimaced. "Except mom and Parva." She held up the book she had been reading. "It's a basic text about magic." She explained. "And Parva is going to be my tutor."

* * *

Rosemary Granger was not always a dentist. In fact she was hardly ever a dentist, even when she went to the office each day. Her occupation was a cover, though she really had the training and skills and had obtained a genuine license to practice dentistry. On occasion she even saw patients. But her real profession was far more hazardous. There was a small safe under her bed that was locked at all times, and to which neither her husband nor especially her daughter had access. Inside were a number of items, ranging from passports and identification papers to cash currency and bank cards, and alongside all of that was her emergency firearm.

Because before she met Julian Granger and before she went to medical school, before she fell in love and settled down to be a wife and raise her beautiful daughter, she had been an agent of Her Majesty's Secret Intelligence Service. It was a role to which she was uniquely suited, being the daughter and heir of the Fairchild criminal dynasty. Trudy Fairchild, her mother, had not taken kindly to her father's occupation, and had removed herself from him and taken Rosemary with her. Eugene Fairchild lamented his wife's choice, but loved his daughter all the same. Rose had still seen her father occasionally while she was growing up, but only a few times per year. He otherwise kept his distance. Despite his estrangement from her, her father made certain that she was prepared to take over for him when he died. Eugene respected his wife too much to interfere with her choice to leave him, but refused to abandon his daughter.

So she grew up, the sequestered heir of a criminal empire worth tens of millions in revenue each year. Her father's most trusted men shadowed her everywhere, watching her and keeping her safe. They provided for her wellbeing: helping to teach her and sometimes stepping in to intimidate her boyfriends. But she hadn't wanted to follow in her father's footsteps. When she was old enough she applied for work with the government as an analyst. She was recruited by Military Intelligence almost immediately, and after some intensive training she was transferred to Section 6. So began her unglamorous career as a spy. She wasn't a field agent, though she had the training to be one. The most action she ever saw was as an attaché to the British embassy in Tehran, during the overthrow of the Shah Dynasty. She had helped acquire vital intelligence that was later passed on to the Yanks, who were embroiled in a hostage crisis.

That was also where she met her first witch. Not that she would have known if she had met another before then, but the incident would always remain as such in her mind. They encountered each other in a moment of mutual desperation. The woman, who called herself Parvaneh, had been on a mission of her own. She was there to save several magical children who had been caught up in the revolution. Parvaneh feared that the Ayatollah rebels were the sort of religious extremists that wouldn't hesitate to burn the children alive if they were found out. For this very reason the Persian magical community had retreated to sanctuaries in eastern Turkey, but several families and far too many young magicals had been unaccounted for.

Parvaneh had tracked two of the missing families to a rebel controlled prison. Although most adult magicals could apparently teleport, it was a very difficult feat, and it took an extreme effort to take someone else along when they did. Most were incapable of carrying another with them when they teleported. Unwilling to abandon their children, and unable to get them all to safety, both families had been captured during the rebel advance. They were assumed to be supporters of the Shah regime and were detained for questioning. It was a messy thing that happened to innocents far too often during the conflict. Parvaneh was breaking into the prison to rescue them, equipped with a pair of magical devices that would allow instant extraction. She succeeded in getting the 'portkeys' to the families, but during the rescue a militant had shot Parvaneh and she lost her wand. Unable to defend herself, she was captured.

Someone in the Ayatollah leadership must have known about magic and magicals, because she was held as a high priority prisoner and escorted to one of the rebel command posts for interrogation. She made an escape attempt on the way there, catching Rosemary's attention. Rose knew it was a bad idea to get involved, but the desperately pleading look on Parvaneh's face moved her to act, and she followed them. The men escorting her had decided to have some fun first, and had stopped to drag her into an abandoned building where they intended to rape her. Parvaneh struggled in vain against them, kicking and clawing and biting until they wrestled her to the floor.

That was when Rose walked in.

She took stock of the situation and in one smooth motion fired three shots, killing all of them. It was a stupid decision, because the men still in the cars outside had heard the shots and were charging into the building. Rose thought that she had just gotten herself killed. Instead Parvaneh was digging desperately through the clothes of one of her would-be rapists until she exclaimed in happiness as she found a… wooden stick. She muttered something about being thankful that the man was a ' _stupid jealous squib_ ' who had kept her ' _wand_ ' as a souvenir. Rosemary would have slapped the girl if she wasn't busy preparing an ambush for the men who were moments away from rushing the door. But then Parvaneh grabbed her arm and she felt the oddest sort of stress twist and press all over her body. The next moment she found that she wasn't in the room anymore. She wasn't even in the same city.

Rose could still remember it as though it were only the day before…

* * *

" _I am Parvaneh and I thank you, friend._ " Parvaneh said in Persian. " _I owe you a life debt. Any task or restitution you would ask of me, I will give._ "

" _I'm Semahr._ " She gave her alias. " _What just happened?_ " Rose demanded, stowing her pistol and taking in the change of scenery with more than a little awe.

" _Ah. That was magic. I apparated us to a house I had prepared for emergencies. It is well warded. We are safe here._ "

Rose opened her mouth to refute the ludicrous claim and then glanced at the room and through the window at the village outside and pursed her lips instead. Then she thought of a new objection and started to voice it before realizing that that wouldn't work either and shut her mouth again. " _That's… interesting._ " She finally managed. " _Current circumstances do seem to lend evidence to your claim of magic._ " Then she had another thought. " _But if you could teleport, how did they catch you?_ "

" _I lost my wand._ "

" _You can't use magic without a wand?_ "

" _A wand is a focus for magic. It also amplifies magic that is channeled through it. Hardly anyone can use magic without a wand, and what we can do is severely limited: rituals that require intensive preparation and only produce specific results… that sort of thing. I can push or pull things without a wand, but not much else. I lost it when I was shot, but thankfully that squib picked it up to taunt me with it._ "

" _Okay… I'll accept that. But what's a squib?_ " Rose asked.

" _A squib is someone born into a magical bloodline but without any magic. They are usually cast out of the family very early so they can live among muggles without any memory of magic._ " Seeing her questioning look, Parvaneh elaborated. " _Muggles are just normal people, and by definition a muggle refers to basically everyone without any magic who also aren't aware of magic. You aren't a muggle anymore, since I have told you about magic. You would be a maverick; though neither term is flattering._ "

" _Why? It seems a straightforward definition._ "

" _They have come to mean unpleasant things. Calling a person a muggle is the same as calling them an animal. And a maverick is an unbranded animal that has escaped its range and is free game to any who choose to claim them. Merely for knowing of magic, you would be punished as though you had committed a crime._ "

Rose felt a headache coming on. The existence of magic was much too large of a secret to have been kept so successfully. Either they had some kind of magic that prevented people from talking about it or there was a massive international conspiracy to keep it secret. " _So what happens now? How can your society possibly keep magic secret? Do you curse people who find out so they can't talk about it or just wipe their memory?_ "

" _Usually both._ " Parvaneh admitted sheepishly. " _But because I told you, you are exempted from the Statute of Secrecy, which would otherwise have made you forget all of this the next time you slept, and prevented you from telling anyone else in the meanwhile. You have a sharp mind to discern so much. Still, if others found out that you are aware of magic they may seek to take your memories from you. It is better to pretend ignorance. But you needn't worry about me. My debt to you will not allow me to betray you like that, nor allow you to so easily come to harm._ "

" _That's another thing that confuses me. You saved my life when you brought me here with you. If you left me behind I would have died for sure. I'd say we're even._ " Rose stated.

" _But what you say and what magic demands are not the same._ " Parvaneh explained. " _Magic has judged that I owe a life debt to you. It is not so simply repaid. I was the reason you were in danger, so my saving you did not absolve my debt. You freely put yourself at risk to protect me from a true risk to my life. And I_ would _have died if you hadn't. Magic has recognized it thusly. That is why it is a full debt. You can ask anything of me, even make me your slave, and I cannot refuse you._ "

Rose stared at her in shock. " _That's horrible. Can't I just excuse the debt?_ " She asked.

Parvaneh shook her head. " _If it was a partial debt or even a half debt, then yes you could. But never with a full debt; it must be repaid properly. Many are the stories of the witch or wizard beholden by a life debt to a muggle, be they a peasant or a king, and always the debt remains until magic says it is done._ "

" _Well shit._ " Rose sighed and rubbed her temples. Definitely a headache. She stared for a long moment at the woman who would become such a large part of her life. " _I guess that means we're stuck with each other._ "

* * *

That had been almost ten years ago, and her daughter Hermione had not yet been born. Rosemary had met Julian Granger for the first time several years earlier, while liaising with the Special Air Service to provide intelligence and control for one of their operations. Julian was every girl's fantasy: he was physically fit, dangerously smart, and outrageously suave. He also had a habit of trying to seduce her over the radio… while the op was live… even as he was being _shot_ at… Needless to say she fell for his charms and slept with him. The fact that he lived up to his boasting had her arranging to meet up again later. They met up between other operations and dated whenever both of them were in the home isles.

Rosemary was stationed back in Britain when Julian called her to let her know he was on leave. That was the time she had a tryst with him that resulted in her becoming pregnant with Hermione. They were serious enough in their relationship that when she told him he proposed to her. It had meant her semi-retirement from the Secret Intelligence Service, but she was ready to pursue something different. She agreed to act as a consultant when they needed her. Rose pulled some strings with her former boss to have her fiancé brought in. Julian was offered an early out from his service contract if he agreed to transfer to MI6 as a consultant.

It was blatant cronyism and abuse of the system, but it was also a full retirement with a pension, and Julian took it so he could still work while spending time with his future wife. Since they were slated to become homeland assets, they were both put into a fast-track program that would see them through medical school. They married before starting classes, and by the end of their schooling they were both qualified dentists. It was a grueling three years -four for Julian, who started a semester late- between school and caring for Hermione. But they managed, and even opened their own practice to complete their cover.

Then the problems started.

Hermione began having bouts of… accidental magic. Rose recognized it from her talks with Parva, as Rose now called her friend, and immediately called her for advice. Parva was thrilled for her, and excited for her child's potential. From the statistics her friend gave her, Rose knew that there were very few magicals in the world, and an extremely small number of muggleborns. Worldwide, the number of magicals was something like one in ten-thousand, yet in Magical Britain the population was closer to one magical for every thousand muggles.

The difference was due to the fact that the history of Magical Britain had mirrored its muggle counterpart in terms of building an empire. In fact Magical Britain still held tight control over large swaths of Africa, India, and parts of the Middle East. North American natives resisted all magical settlement beyond the eastern coast, and those colonies had broken away from Magical Britain during the muggle revolution. Australia was unique in that it was never properly colonized by magicals. It was considered a dangerous wilderness and frontier, filled with all manner of deadly beasts and dangerous magical creatures. Expeditions by magicals into the outback were often never seen again or were later found dead.

Despite these setbacks, the magical side of Britain was still very much an empire, and many foreign magicals came to the British Isles to take advantage of the opportunities this offered. This immigration on the magical side, when coupled with the relatively small population of muggles compared to the rest of the world, resulted in a skewed population with many more magicals than elsewhere in the world. The ratio of muggleborns remained constant and was closer to one in five-hundred-thousand, so needless to say Hermione was uniquely special.

Parva went on to explain that magic sometimes acts as if it has a will of its own, and that her falling into Rose's debt might have been intentionally done by magic to help prepare her for her child. Rose believed firmly in free will, and had a hard time accepting that such contrivance was possible. Nevertheless it had happened, whether by chance or fate, and she had a witch as a friend to rely on when she needed help. And she did need it soon after.

Her father Eugene Fairchild had died during a violent struggle for control of the syndicate, and while she had made certain that the new leadership understood that she wasn't interested in assuming his role as head of the family, they hadn't cared to chance her at her word. Rose and her family were ruthlessly targeted by hired killers and corrupt politicians. She had to call in all her old contacts at MI6 just to keep her family safe. They had to give up their daughter for over half a year, letting her stay with her grandmother, while Rose and Julian dealt with the syndicate. Parva agreed to help, setting up wards on Trudy's house to keep both her and their daughter safe. She also helped scry for information on the whereabouts of the syndicate members.

Their old house had been firebombed and multiple attempts had been made on their lives, one of which resulted in several innocent bystanders dying. Such indiscriminate violence could not be tolerated. Although she was still considered a consultant rather than an active agent, Rose's old boss gave her back her license to kill and told her that as long as her husband kept a low profile no one would look into things too closely. After three weeks of planning their offense, the Grangers went to work. From midday on Friday until late Monday evening they took down one pawn after another, working their way up the ranks until the usurpers themselves were dead and most of the syndicate with them. Her third cousin, Vaughn Fairchild, contacted them on behalf of the survivors, begging for a truce. The Grangers accepted, but had already ensured that the police received all the evidence they needed to put the remaining members away. The syndicate never recovered from their retaliation.

When the Grangers returned to collect their daughter, they learned that she had a new friend. They were loath to separate them, since Hermione had always had such a hard time finding anyone she could get along with. Their daughter was much smarter than was average for her age, and while her intelligence was remarkable and worthy of admiration, it set her apart from her peers and made her a pariah. She was a very lonely child, and had often cried about her lack of friends. Yet she had attached herself to this boy quite intensely, and if his reaction to her leaving was any indication at all, the feeling was mutual. That she had found someone who not only tolerated her but actively enjoyed her company? It endeared both Grangers to the boy instantly. They promised to let her come back and visit before the end of summer.

Hermione had been depressed for days, and when a week had gone by without her friend calling she had written him a letter. Rosemary was worried that her daughter's friend was angry with her for leaving, and he was taking it out on her by refusing to communicate. She didn't want her daughter to lose her first friend so soon after finding him. Hermione had only shook her head sadly and said that it was his _relatives_ who were the problem. The slight emphasis on the word had alarm bells sounding in the back of Rose's mind, and she resolved to call Trudy about the boy. Sadly, she never had the chance. Trudy called her later that morning to give her news of boy, and the horrible conclusions the police had reached. Telling her daughter that her first and only friend was dead was the hardest thing she had ever done.

She held Hermione in her arms for hours while she cried and blamed herself for leaving him behind. Rose cried with her, knowing there was nothing she could do that would make it better for her daughter or the boy who had been her friend. She resolved to contact her old therapist to get advice on how to help Hermione deal with her loss. After three days of inconsolable sadness, her forlorn daughter could finally last a few hours between bouts of crying. It almost broke Rose to see her daughter like that. And there wasn't anything she could do except hug her and try to comfort her. Hermione had more than a few bursts of accidental magic during her tantrums at the injustice of the world, and Rose almost told her daughter about magic and her being a witch, in the hope of consoling her. She knew some of the limits of magic, and that death was still immutable. It wouldn't be something that could bring her friend back, but might distract her from the pain.

Parva had said that someone would be around to 'enlighten' them as to the existence of magic sometime around her daughter's eleventh birthday, and that was a year and a half away. Parva had placed wards around their new house, and said that as long as Hermione lived there with them the wards would stay in place. She mentioned that the British magical community had a lot of anti-muggleborn sentiment, and that she had made the wards extremely strong. It was something she was apparently very good at. In fact, they were so powerful that she would have to take them down so that the ministry could find Hermione to invite her to school.

When Parva visited the next day, Rose sat down with her friend to explain to her daughter about magic. She had no idea what to do when her daughter burst into tears all over again. Through sobbing and crying hiccups, Hermione explained that she already knew that what sometimes happened around her was magic, and that she _and_ Harry had been using it all year. Then she casually waved her hand and made the water in her glass float up above the table in a wet ball, before swirling and slushing in a little maelstrom. Another wave had the whole thing freeze solid, as though it were a delicate sculpture. It crashed against the table and shattered, shards of ice scattering everywhere. Hermione squeaked and apologized before waving her hand one last time and making the whole mess melt into water and jump back into her glass.

Rose took the glass and dumped it, deciding that the water was probably dirty after touching the table and floor. It also let her step away from the table for a bit. She had, after all, just seen her daughter do more than Parva could without a wand. And Hermione was still a child.

Unbeknownst to her, Parvaneh's thoughts echoed her own. She stared in awe of the child who had not yet reached the first maturity of her magic, and yet still surpassed what even the greatest of adult wizards could do without a wand. When this girl grew up she would be truly amazing. She would be a protégé of magic. Likely as not she was a fated child, someone born with a destiny already set before her. Parva was once again convinced that her debt to Rose had been fated to happen, and now with Rose's daughter before her she knew why she had been led upon this path. There was much she had to do. She would be leaving her occupation and moving to Britain on a permanent basis. For soon she would begin teaching the child herself.

After many hours of discussion Parva left a magical primer for Hermione to read over, and promised to be back in a few weeks for formal instruction. Rose had seen Hermione smile, however briefly, at the announcement. She thanked Parva and hugged her before she left, whispering her gratitude for her help. Parva only grinned and said that the path was chosen long ago, and only now did they see it for what it was.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Rosemary arrived home from work she found her daughter happier than she had been in weeks. It was a delightful change, but it was such an odd change in behavior that she had to wonder what brought it about. "Did something happen sweetie?" She asked.

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Harry's here." She said. "He didn't die! He just… ran away from those awful people."

Rose choked on perfectly good air when her daughter said that Harry was there. It was true that they hadn't found the body yet, but she had looked into the evidence and it was compelling. On top of that, she knew that their residence should have been impossible to find. All records of their change of address had been carefully purged by her friends in Military Intelligence. There shouldn't have been any trace of them anywhere outside of the local municipality. How would he have found them? That didn't even take into account the wards that Parva had put up on the house. Literally no one should have been able to visit them without an invitation. Even someone who knew where they lived would simply find that they had no reason to come over if they weren't specifically invited.

So how did he do it? It had to be magic, of course. Hermione had told them that Harry had magic too, and that they had practiced using it together. All those unexplained bursts of accidental magic that Parva noticed from Hermione had probably been her magic calling out to him and guiding him to her. That might even count as an invitation. The so called 'rules' that governed magic were more like guidelines filled with exceptions ripe for abuse. And if magic sometimes acted as though it had a will of its own, then it shouldn't surprise anyone that if it wanted something to happen it exploited every loophole to ensure that it came about.

Parva insisted that magic was inherently benevolent. But if there was one thing Rose had learned about magic, it was that nothing could be taken for granted. She didn't like the way Hermione implied that their magic had brought her and Harry together. It sounded to her as though both children were being manipulated. And now this? Harry had somehow arrived at their house despite all of their precautions… and it was as though he had been guided there by magic itself. Rose didn't understand it and that worried her. But she was a mother fist.

"So where is he? Has he eaten? How did he get here?" Rose asked. "He must be hungry if he's hiked all the way here. He's been gone for almost a week."

Hermione looked sheepish. "We were making a shelter for him in the woods out back." She said. "And yes, he's eaten. I brought him out some food from the house earlier."

Rose shook her head at her daughter. "He certainly won't be staying in the woods." She said. "We have enough spare rooms that he can have his pick of them. And I promise, he won't be going back to his relatives. We'll adopt him ourselves if we have to. Now go get him and bring him inside." She said firmly. "I want to have a look at him and make sure he's in good health. His uncle hit him on the head before he disappeared, and he might still be injured."

"Uhh…" Hermione hemmed. "I don't think that's going to work so well."

"Why not?" Rose demanded. "He isn't afraid to come in, is he? I'll go with you and reassure him that we won't hurt him."

"Well uhh… It's just that… He's sort of a dragon now…"

"He's… what?"

* * *

 **AN: So I introduced a lot of original characters in this chapter. Most of the OC's have very minor roles and other than a cameo or two won't appear in later chapters. It wasn't my intention to focus so much of the chapter on them, but I was trying to use the kids at the library to highlight more of Harry's personality, since he has begun a slight divergence from his canon persona. Turning into a dragon is a logical justification for that. Hopefully I've written them all satisfactorily. If you have comments about any of them, or you like or dislike anything being done, let me know. Most future chapters will be much more focused on Harry and Hermione, since they are the central characters of this story.**

 **To answer some reviewer's questions about posting schedules, understand that there are none. I write 6-8 hours a week, sometimes more in spurts throughout the year. This chapter was a little shorter than previous ones. Work and life always come first. This is and will remain a hobby for me. I'll write as long as I enjoy it.**

 **Reviews, good or bad, are always appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

**It should be obvious, but must declare that I own no rights to the Harry Potter story or the Elder Scrolls game or any of their characters. All such ownership belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bethesda Softworks. Only characters of my own creation are not theirs, and I reserve no rights upon them, so if they catch your fancy feel free to use them.**

 **AN: This is a revised version of the chapter, updated 6/12/15. As many reviewers pointed out, I was overly harsh in my depiction of the greater magical world, in effect railroading Harry into Hogwarts. I have done some small and large revisions to address this issue. I can't escape the fact that I am, in a sense, forcing Harry into Hogwarts. But at least now there's better justification than 'everywhere else is so freaking horrible -kill me now'. Hopefully this reads a little easier too. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

Interlude: A Judgement of Divines

Akatosh materialized his presence in the chamber of the convocation. The Aedra and Daedra filled the room and looked down upon him from their raised seats. He had been putting this off for as long as he could, but they had finally forced his appearance before them for his flagrant breach of the compact. The divines had all agreed not to directly interfere with mortalkind, nor to intervene with the natural flow of events, and he had done both. First when he answered a desperate mother's plea to safeguard her child, and then when he arranged for that child to find his friend years earlier than he would have otherwise. That his actions had farther reaching consequences than even he had anticipated did not go unnoticed.

By adopting the child as his own and making him a Dovahkiin, he had sparked an innate magic that the child possessed. It was a magic of inherent shapeshifting, which the boy's mother explained was called an animagus talent. When Akatosh immersed the boy's soul in his own divinity, the boy's soul was forever reforged into the soul of a dragon. The animagus magic had latched onto the newly reborn dragon soul and tried to change his body to match. Instead of a Dovahkiin, the boy had become a fully-fledged Dovah.

It was… unanticipated.

Akatosh had done his best to conceal his mistake. He managed to halt the transformation before it progressed too far and lock away the boy's animagus talent. Still, the dragon within yearned to escape the confines of the body it resided in. It wanted to fly and be free and claim dominion over a territory of its own. It wanted to be worshiped for its strength and dominate those who were weaker. But the boy seemed the stronger of the two. For when his soul was reborn the greater part of his human nature remained, and although it was not often in conflict with his dragon nature it was clearly the dominant part. It pleased him that the boy he had chosen to adopt was proven worthy of the honor.

His interference on his son's behalf was incredibly subtle. He was not the god of time without cause. He could perceive all of the present, and could delve into the past at will. He could observe the potential within an alteration the past and witness the effects his actions would have before taking them. But he was almost blind to the future, and there were severe limits to his manipulations. Yet he managed well enough.

The mortal woman Parvaneh had died in the original timeline, raped and then murdered by the squib who had caught her and taken her wand. But Akatosh impeded events, ensuring that Rosemary Granger was delayed in meeting her contact, and just happened to see Parvaneh dragged into the building where she would have been raped and killed. He needed no further action than that to set things in motion. Rosemary had saved Parvaneh's life and indebted the woman to her. Because of that, Parvaneh had lent her warding expertise to keep Rosemary's family safe during the crisis with the criminal syndicate, and Hermione Granger was sent to stay with her grandmother instead of being hidden away in witness protection for a year.

Harry Potter had met Hermione Granger almost three years early, and their friendship had become far more intense than it otherwise would have been for many years. Akatosh could not see much that was uncontestably certain within the multitude of potential futures, but their friendship was something that was always going to happen. All he had done with his meddling was hurry things along. The lines of probability stretched out in every direction, bending only very gradually towards the same general conclusion. But despite the variety in their potential futures, the connection between Harry and Hermione was now a tangible thread that permeated _all_ possibilities instead of just a handful of them.

Harry had claimed Hermione as his, and what was more, she had accepted this and claimed him in turn. {Mine} ' ** _Dii_** ' they had said to one another. Though the children didn't know the meaning of the words they had spoken to each other, the Dovah soul within Harry _did_ , and it reached out to touch the soul of the girl and held it with the fierce protectiveness of a mated dragon. Every time they called to each other they reinforced and strengthened their connection. Akatosh's actions had caused a dramatic shift in the potential future of his adopted son, closing some possibilities while opening others.

But the girl was mortal, and would age and die as all mortalkind did. He would not dare to interfere again to make Hermione a Dovahkiin as well. Even if he did, it was unlikely that she would become a full Dovah. She did not have the inherited shapeshifting magic that Harry did. It was a terrible thing, knowing how his child would suffer at the inevitable loss of his mate.

One by one the rest of the convocation materialized. Akatosh stood in the center of the room, a circle of his peers around him. "So…" He began. "What is it you would demand?"

"You have broken the accord! Breached the very compact you yourself forged between us!" Lorkhan shouted aloud, as though daring him to deny it. Lorkhan had been his rival since Akatosh usurped his position as the chief deity of the divines and cast him out of the pantheon for his betrayal.

"Yes." Akatosh said simply. He would not play these games.

"Then you willfully ignored the summons of this convocation. You sought to escape justice for your actions." Lorkhan insisted.

"Yes and no." He answered again.

"Ah! You deny it?" His rival sneered. "Did you not refuse all three calls to judgement? Did you not force this body to exercise our own power to bring you here?"

"I did." He said. "But I did not seek to escape justice. Only delay it so that I could first finish my work." A flurry of whispering broke out among the assembled divinities.

"And what was that?" A new voice inquired. "What was so important to you that you would violate your own law and ignore our calls? We know you are in breach of the compact, but we could find no trace of your actions upon Nirn. What have you been doing? And why?" Kynareth was the voice of the moderates and the neutrals.

"I was seeing to the care of my son." He stated, and all manner of shouts and exclamations erupted from the members of the convocation.

"Alduin has returned?" Another member asked, almost frightened.

"No." Akatosh answered. "He is still trapped between times. But the hour of his return draws very near. It is indeed almost upon us." He shook his head. "I was looking after my new son, a boy born a mortal and touched by my divinity."

"You made another Dovahkiin?" Kynareth asked. "Was it done to fulfill the prophecy? Were you merely insuring that the Dovahkiin would be in place to defeat Alduin?"

"No. This child of mine has no part to play in _that_ prophecy. He is tied to another future… and is the subject of another prophecy entirely." Lily Potter had explained that much to him. She was quite the font of information regarding the strange world of Earth.

"And who is he? Where does he reside upon Nirn?" Lorkhan pressed.

"He doesn't reside on Nirn." Akatosh said, smirking slightly at the gaping jaw of his rival.

"Then where is he!?" His rival demanded.

"He is from another universe, completely removed from our own. It can only be reached by moving… sideways through time." The shouting in the room eclipsed his ability to make sense of what was being said, and Akatosh was now grinning fiercely. His rival had wanted to punish not just himself, but the child he had claimed as his own. Except that Harry was far beyond his ability to reach, and would remain safe from his machinations.

"And yet none of us were aware of the existence of such a place?"

"I was not aware of it myself until very recently." Akatosh admitted. "And that universe is not alone; there are likely innumerable other universes existing parallel to our own. We are part of a far larger multiverse and I have only just begun to explore them."

"How convenient that it should be reachable only by your own authority over time, and that none of us can see these other universes for ourselves." His rival spat. "You would escape our judgement by fleeing there, then?"

"I already told you that I have no intention of avoiding my punishment." Akatosh narrowed his eyes. "But do not mistake my passivity for weakness. I did what needed to be done in a moment of crisis, and I will pay the proper reparation for my actions. But I do not regret what I did, and I would do so again if the same situation took place once more."

"Justice would be for the whelp you unlawfully sired to be slain by your own hand, but that is something upon which we will clearly never reach an accord. Instead I move that you be barred from leaving your realm or acting with your power for the lifetime of your child."

 _He **knows**. _ Akatosh realized. _He knows that Harry is not just a Dovahkiin, but a full Dovah. And If I don't admit as much to everyone here, I will be bound for the lifetime of an immortal. But how did he find out? Was his annoyance at being unable to reach into Harry's realm a deception?_ He thought furiously, trying to find a way out of this trap. "But what should happen if Alduin returns before then? Without a Dovahkiin to fulfill the prophecy Nirn would be devoured and my power absorbed by my errant son. Then he would turn to feast upon you all."

"Then you shall make a Dovahkiin now, before you are exiled to your realm." His rival demanded with a wicked smile. "We shall see to it that the Dovahkiin fulfills the prophecy."

Akatosh shook his head. "You know as well as any that there are forces at work seeking to undermine our creation; forces that would stop at nothing to ensure that Alduin succeeds. I will not risk the Dovahkiin falling to their influence before he has had a chance to grow into his power. A chance he will not have until Alduin resurrects the dragons upon Nirn. It is the souls of the fallen dragons that the Dovahkiin absorbs which make him the force necessary to fulfill the prophecy. Nothing less will suffice."

"So he would hold the fate of us all as leverage to avoid justice." Lorkhan spoke to the assembly, rather than him. "And we should just cede to your demands?"

Akatosh sighed. "You are fixated upon the idea that I am avoiding anything. You are not strong enough to _keep me here_ if I should choose to leave. That I am here at all proves that I am willing to accept what justice is called for. I make no demands. I wait for you to decide."

The Daedric Prince Malog Bal spoke. "I have a solution." The assembly quieted. "Some of my own children are present on the world of the new Dovahkiin. I could direct them to kill th-"

" _How_?" Akatosh demanded.

Malog Bal smiled viciously. "Why, your own missing children of course. Did you never wonder where they fled when Alduin rebelled? Those Dovah who would not bow to him left Nirn and never returned. And because they all share your aspect of time, they were able to… move sideways, as you've said. One among those that fled had taken up with me." There was grumbled from the assembly, but none voiced their disgust aloud. "Am I not the prince of domination and enslavement? Your children are quite the embodiment of those qualities, driven as they are to dominate and enslave those weaker than themselves. Is it any wonder that one of them should seek me out and make a pact for more power?"

A Dovah who had become a vampire… the mere thought of such an abomination was enough to sicken him. Akatosh bowed his head. It was entirely possible that one of his Dovah had done this, and more, he was surprised that it had been only one. "What do you mean to do?"

"I will direct my servant to kill your Dovahkiin. I'll need only tell him that your child exists. After all, he is still a Dovah and a Dovahkiin on his world is a threat to him. That is a small enough interference to be allowed, in light of your own, is it not?" From the sound of their murmurings the assembly agreed with the Daedric Prince.

An accord reached, the chambers emptied quickly. Hircine, Daedric Prince of the hunt, remained behind and approached him. Akatosh turned to face him. "What is it?" He asked, sounding defeated.

"There is no reason to sound so dejected." Hircine said.

"My son will soon be dead, by the order and action of this assembly. Have you come only to gloat?" Akatosh snarled.

"Quite the opposite. It just so happens that some of your lost children had also made pact with me, and while they have passed from the world my legacy remains. Harry Potter's mortal father took up with one of mine during his life, and his loyalty to his pack and celebration of the hunt has earned him an honorary place in my realm. I would send the last survivor of his pack to aid Harry, though those who carry my legacy on that world are ignorant of my domain and their obligations to me, I believe he will heed my request. Malog Bal will expend most of his strength sending a message to his servant. He will be weakened for some time and I mean to take advantage of it. I will not be able to do so if I must expend myself in a similar manner. If you want me to do this you must use your authority over time to allow me access to that world."

Akatosh looked Hircine in the eye for a long moment before he nodded. He would do whatever he could to protect his adopted son.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore wrestled with his conscience yet again. He had placed protections upon the Dursleys as soon as the news broke about Harry Potter's murder at their hands. He was sorely tempted to let the wizarding world have its vigilante justice, but only tempted. He knew the truth, after all, that although Harry Potter was severely abused at their hands, he was not murdered. He approached the front door of a small house that was at the front of a street not even two miles from the Dursley residence, and knocked on the door.

Trudy Fairchild answered promptly. "Hello? Can I help you?" She asked the man with the ridiculous beard.

"Yes. I believe you may be able to. You are Trudy Fairchild?" He asked, and at her nod he continued. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am here as a representative of the Potter family trust. I was hoping you could tell me everything you know about the boy. I understand he spent a great deal of time here, and that I have you to thank for reporting his abuse to the authorities, little good though it did poor Harry." He explained.

"I suppose you can come in." She said, leading him into the hallway. "I'll just put on some tea." She told him, daintily moving into the kitchen. "You can have a seat in the sitting room, just through that door."

Dumbledore pulled on the handle and the door slid neatly aside, three pieces folding against the wall. The sitting room was a cozy little thing, with two armchairs and a small couch all facing a coffee table, the couch and one of the chairs positioned to look out the window. Dumbledore noted that that chair was much more worn and took his seat on the couch instead. When she returned a minute later with tea and promptly took that seat as her own he smiled to himself at having guessed right. They spent a few moments in silence, pouring their tea and sipping lightly before Trudy sighed.

"So what is it you want to know?" She asked.

"Anything. Everything. No detail is unimportant. Harry Potter was left in the care of his relatives under my discretion. This entire situation is my fault. I mean to rectify it if I can."

"Why was he left with those horrid people?"

"They were all the family he had left. They were his kin. They were blood. He went to live with them at such a young age that he likely wouldn't have remembered anything before he lived there. I wanted him to grow up with a loving family. But my safeguards failed. He was mistreated and I had no knowledge of the fact. The Dursleys were quite proficient in hiding their abuse of Harry. The person I had checking up on them saw nothing, and the school records I had sent to me also reported nothing. I provided the Dursleys with a _very_ generous stipend for the support of the boy. Which I have since found to be embezzled into several accounts."

"Why didn't you personally check up on him?"

"I was a nominal acquaintance of Petunia Dursley, and sent and received correspondence with her regularly for two years after she took Harry in, and never had reason to suspect any dishonesty in her responses." He sighed. "I know that, for at least those first two years, he was treated well. But her last letter should have been a warning. She insisted that I break off all contact and leave them alone. Upon a recent rereading, her distress was evident. She was pleading for help. I should have checked in on them. In fact, I do not even hold her at fault for what happened. Her husband is a most repulsive person. I believe Petunia was the subject of domestic abuse herself, and her failure to protect Harry from her husband was a direct result of her failure to protect herself. The man will face prison, regardless of whether or not Harry is found alive."

"You think Harry's still alive?" Trudy asked, hope evident in her voice.

"I believe it with every fiber of my being." Dumbledore assured her. "I just hope I can find him in time to help."

His forthrightness inured him to her, and Trudy opened up to him, confessing all her own worries and feelings towards the boy. When she told Albus about how she had gotten Harry to call her 'gran' there were tears in her eyes. Albus had some of his own upon hearing her story.

* * *

Severus Snape was waiting for him when he returned to his office. "Did you find anything Severus?" He asked hopefully.

Snape shook his head. "I found where he was sheltering for the first few days, an old train station that was abandoned and falling to pieces. He was hunting game in the nearby forest, and that's where he ran across the girl. But he's been long gone from there."

"I suppose it is too much to hope that he left some clue as to where he was headed?"

"Nothing. But I did find out that he can already breathe fire, and maybe the hottest I've ever seen from a dragon. I found a few of the places where he was testing his breath. He took a length of iron rail and _evaporated_ it. I found _condensed metal_ on the ceiling, solidified where it cooled as it was dripping down from the rafters. The damage from his attempts at learning to breathe fire left seven meter long etchings in the concrete."

"That is… most impressive for such a small dragon." Dumbledore agreed quietly.

"Well it may be, but unless we have something else to go on there's no point in continuing to look." Snape said with a trace of bitterness. "We'll never find him."

Dumbledore sighed. "I had come to the same conclusion. For now, all we can do is wait and hope that he is well."

"What about the Fairchild woman?" Snape inquired.

"Despite the presence of extremely powerful wards on her property, Trudy Fairchild was completely unaware of the magical world. Her daughter is also not a suspect; given her occupation as a dentist, I strongly doubt she is a witch. I suspect her daughter may have married a wizard, who surreptitiously provided her with protection. It is a lead to follow up on. If the man _is_ a wizard, he would certainly have known who Harry Potter was, and may have tried to help him. Mrs. Fairchild was well aware of the abuse Harry was dealt at the hands of his relatives, so it stands to reason that she would have told her son-in-law. The last time she saw them was when they visited at the beginning of summer to pick up their daughter, her grandchild, who had been staying with her for most of the year."

"That was just a few weeks before Harry's disappearance. The timing is rather convenient."

"I thought so as well." Dumbledore agreed. "His occupation is also supposedly that of a dentist, though the way Mrs. Fairchild said it would have you think it was merely a hobby he did on the side. The impression I got from her mind was that it was a cover for his real job, though she was too guarded for a passive scan to reveal more. I did discover that their family had a spot of trouble just after her ex-husband died. The man was some kind of crime lord, and his petty empire fell apart upon his death. The would-be claimants to the dead man's throne went after his family to secure their position. That was why her granddaughter was staying with her; to keep her safe and out of the way. Trudy's son-in-law was _cleaning up the mess_ , as it were. That's another reason to suspect that the man is magical. Who else but a wizard could so effortlessly take on an entire criminal syndicate worth of muggles? Regardless of anything else, the man is certainly dangerous and we need to approach him with all due caution."

"Did you get his name?" Snape asked.

"Julian Granger."

* * *

Chapter Four: A Claim Upon Hearth and Home

Parvaneh had seen many strange things in her life. But when she received the panicked call from Rose, she hadn't been expecting anything like this. Laying blithely in the Granger's back yard was the very dragon that had been causing the British Ministry of Magic so much trouble with the International Confederation. And their daughter was seated on the grass between its front feet, leaning against its chest with its head on her lap and its wings folded protectively around her. Parva felt a surge of adrenaline and fear when she saw her young charge beside the dangerous creature. Dragons were known wizard killers, and impossible to train. Yet there Hermione sat, snuggled between its arms.

This was like something out of muggle storybook fiction. Dragons _did not_ act like this. Dragons were apex predators, and even ones as young as this one appeared to be were treated with the respect and caution they were rightly due as deadly magical beasts. She had seen the muggle video, and the strength and speed that this unknown species of dragon displayed had awed her. It would be perilous for even trained wizards to approach this one. But for a child it was insanely dangerous. Dragons were predators by nature, and saw humans -even wizards- as _prey_. And her naïve little muggleborn apprentice had seemingly _no idea_ how close she was to death! Probably the only thing that saved the girl was that dragon's only hunted when hungry and they didn't eat often. Then again this one was young and still growing, which meant it probably needed to eat quite a bit more than an adult dragon would.

Then Parva saw something that nearly stopped her heart. Her apprentice started petting it! It brought its head up so she could scratch under its chin and then it touched its whiskers to her face, making Hermione giggle. If Parva hadn't been so terrified for Hermione's wellbeing she might have paused to consider how odd this behavior was. Wand in hand in case she needed it, Parva spoke as calmly as she could to her pupil. "Ms. Granger, would you come inside please? We need to talk."

Hermione looked up and nodded to her. "I'll be just a moment." She said.

Parva pleaded to all her lucky stars and the spirits of her ancestors that the dragon didn't bite the poor girl in half when she stood up to leave. She watched as the dragon stretched languidly, like a cat waking from a nap. It flexed its wings once before folding them neatly against its back and getting to its feet. Hermione picked up the book that had been sitting unopened on the grass beside her and walked over to her teacher. Parva clenched her jaw and watched, wand ready, waiting for the dragon to make the slightest hostile movement. It turned twice in a circle before lying back down to enjoy the sunlight, and Parva let out a trembling sigh of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming back until next weekend. Are you going to start teaching me magic? Can I see you cast another spell?" Hermione asked.

Parva turned back to her wayward charge and put a comforting arm over her shoulder while dragging her towards the house and the immensely protective wards that would hopefully keep them safe if the dragon attacked. "I'll show you something new today." She promised. She felt the air around her whip at her hair and slowly turned her head to look behind them. The dragon's snout was inches from her face, an eager look in its eyes. It had crossed the distance to them from where it had been laying down in about half a heartbeat. Parva swallowed awkwardly, her mouth suddenly dry. But that wasn't the worst.

"Can I come see too?" The dragon asked excitedly.

She promptly feinted.

* * *

Rose had declined Harry's offer of assistance in carrying her friend inside. He meant well, but he had really sharp claws and poor reflexive control in using them. In fact she was quite amazed that he had never, even accidently, hurt Hermione. He was ridiculously careful around her, and only moved with gentle and deliberate actions. Once Parva had been set on the couch Rose grabbed a plastic tube with smelling salts from her medical kit. One snapped tube later, and Parva was gasping air as she woke up.

She glanced around and blinked, wondering why she was on the couch when the last thing she remembered was steering Hermione towards the house and… the dragon. "Eep!" She said, laying eyes on the dragon in question, who was sitting _right there_ in the living room. Its posture was straight and its tail was curled around its legs as it tried to keep itself to as small of a space as possible. It was still quite large.

"Uhh… Hello." The dragon said as she stared at it with wide eyes. "Sorry about before. I didn't mean to startle you. I know I shouldn't rush at people or come up behind them like that." The dragon looked genuinely contrite, and her pupil also had a guilty look on her face.

Glancing at Hermione, who had wandered over to comfort the dragon, Parva voiced the only question she could in this situation. "How is it exactly that you became friends with a dragon?" Because it was obvious now that she stopped reacting long enough to think about everything she had seen. They apparently knew each other quite well. "And how can it talk?"

Hermione smiled up at her. "That's Harry!" She said. "We aren't sure how but he turned into a dragon the night he disappeared. Except I guess he didn't really disappear; but he did run away after he became a dragon. I think… it was my fault. He missed me. He said it all happened one night when he was really desperate and wanted to get away from his relatives so he could come find me. He hasn't been able to turn back. That's why mom called you."

"I see…" She said, and to her own surprise she did. Having seen the muggle news and read the reports that the Granger's police contacts had provided them, she knew all about Harry Potter's miserable home life and his disgusting relatives. The news of his brutal murder and awful treatment had finally crossed into the magical world as well, and Magical Britain's newspapers were having a field day over the murder of Harry Potter by his own uncle. Parva would be surprised if vigilante justice wasn't taken against the Dursleys sometime soon.

Desperation was the answer to her question. It had always been the key to unlocking the most powerful of magics. He had probably been dying in that cupboard, bleeding out and barely conscious from the concussion his uncle gave him. Accidental magic, driven by pure desperation and the desire to escape his imminent death, had allowed him to achieve a feat less than a hundred magicals in the world had accomplished. It was an animagus transformation. It had to be. And it really shouldn't have been surprising. Almost a fifth of all animagi were spontaneously achieved in moments of extreme duress.

That it was a magical creature was what was so astounding.

She honestly didn't know what to think. She sat up on the couch and took the cup of tea Rose offered her. After a few sips to help calm her nerves, Parva switched into her 'teacher' mindset. "I think I know what happened." She said. "Some witches and wizards are capable of shifting into an animal representation of their spirit. Long before the Romans invaded Britain and brought wand magic with them, the Celtic druids used a different sort of magic. Druid magic was mostly done with staves and chants, invoking nature itself to channel their magic. But druids also used rituals extensively. One of their rituals involved drinking a specially prepared potion to induce a trance and commune with the spirit world. During this rite of passage they were offered guidance from their ancestors and were meant to bond with the spirit of nature. The spirit walk could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, and their journey through the spirit world would be guided by an animal spirit of some sort."

She sipped from her tea and nodded towards the dragon. _Harry_. She tried to remember that the dragon was really just a scared little boy, and not a terrifying predator.

"While the participant was on the other side they would have the opportunity to earn the loyalty of their animal spirit. And if they succeeded, the spirit would bond with them, and then after they woke they would be able to shift into the shape of their spirit animal. While the potion helps immensely and can forcibly induce the trance, it was never actually necessary to achieve the bond with one's animal spirit. Druids had been communing with nature through meditation and self-reflection for thousands of years before the potion was ever discovered. I think what happened was Harry's spirit animal reached out to help him in his time of need."

"So then he can change back?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. He should be able to." Parva agreed. She looked at Harry. "The important thing to remember is that once a bond is formed, your spirit animal is no longer separate from you. This is a magic as old as the world; two spirits, forged into one and reborn together. Like a bond between two soulmates. The spirit animal becomes you; it _is_ you. And in truth it was always part of you, even if you never realized it. The animagus' spirit is a reflection against the mirror of creation, showing you the image of your own soul. But him being a dragon is still remarkable."

"Why?" Rose asked.

"Because a dragon is a magical creature." Parva explained. "That almost never happens. I think in all the records of animagi there were only three or four. And all of them happened only after they bonded to the magical creature in question here in the living world."

"I'd remember a dragon coming to visit." Harry said. "That would be hard to forget."

Parva could only nod in agreement.

"What sort of magical creatures were the other animagi?" Hermione asked.

"The most famous was a phoenix that once bonded with a sickly young witch. It used its healing tears every few days to keep her alive and healthy for many years when she otherwise would have died from illness. But she lived amongst muggles and was found out to be a witch because of some accidental magic. The phoenix had only just had a burning day, which is the time when an adult phoenix dies and is reborn as a baby. The newly reborn phoenix was too young to fly the girl away from the villagers. They tied her to a stake and made to burn her, but the phoenix threw itself into the fire as the flames reached her."

Parva was treated to the sight of a dragon leaning forward, enraptured by her story. She almost giggled at the ludicrousness of it.

"Both the girl and the phoenix were consumed by the fire, but the phoenix was reborn as is their nature and flew away. Except that the bird's plumage had changed, which is something that never happens, no matter how old a phoenix gets or how many times it is reborn. And according to the legend the girl reappeared a few years later at her sister's wedding, and was said to change into a phoenix and fly away when confronted by the churchmen. The legend says that the girl who became a phoenix still appears sometimes, either helping those in need or causing havoc and misfortune to those that deserve it. And if she really is a phoenix animagus then I can believe it. Phoenixes may be wise and immortal, but they are also mischievous birds and love to play pranks and delight in making people laugh."

"They sound like a handful." Rose said.

Parva grinned. "You have no idea. Most of the time they act like spoiled five year olds. And since they can flash through wards and fly while carrying things many times their weight, they can cause a lot of trouble if they want. Then on very rare occasions they act their age. And they are _very_ old. Even the youngest phoenix was born over a millennia ago."

She seemed ready to talk about something else, but Hermione wanted to know more. "What else can you tell us about phoenixes?" She begged.

"Well… phoenixes are considered light creatures because their song shelters and heals a virtuous soul while rebuking and branding a wicked one. Their tears can heal almost any injury or illness, and the ash from their burning and rebirth can purify any blight or corruption. Death is a part of life, and though they are immortal, a phoenix does die every time it is reborn. But even if they don't stay dead, phoenixes don't stick around forever. They are born and reborn again and again for a few thousand years before they vanish. There are many theories about where they go. Some say they add their fire to the sun to keep it burning, while others suggest that they have one final burning where they become pure life and magic. My favorite theory is that they journey across the emptiness between the stars to explore other worlds and bring life to them. Phoenixes truly are amazing creatures, but if a phoenix ever becomes angry enough to take vengeance upon someone, there isn't anywhere that would be safe from them. You know that girl I mentioned who became a phoenix in the legend?" Hermione nodded. "Well she was said to have burned down the chapel with the priest trapped inside, as retribution for burning her alive at the stake."

Hermione grimaced. "That story… is it true?" She asked.

"I don't know." Parva said. "I did see a phoenix that matched her description once, but that doesn't mean anything since the storybook might have simply used that phoenix's colors for their story. I've never seen a phoenix turn into a girl or a girl turn into a phoenix, however. But while many legends are exaggerations, that doesn't mean they aren't also true. I can't prove that the girl became a phoenix, but I do know that less than a century ago there was a young boy who was a unicorn animagus. His mother was a caretaker for the preserve where the herd lived and died protecting them from poachers. The boy's father wasn't known and he had no siblings or other family, so he visited the unicorns every day because he liked to remember his mother. The herd accepted him easily enough, and they even took him riding on their backs. Then one day the boy disappeared, but there was a new unicorn in the herd. When he revealed himself to the caretakers he became really famous, but he stayed with the herd his whole life, abstaining from learning magic. He said he was more a unicorn than a boy, and had no interest in human things."

"Both of those stories are kind of horrible." Harry said softly. "I mean, the girl was burned by her village and the boy lost his family to poachers."

"That is a common theme in these kinds of stories." Parva agreed. "Even yours is tragic. Your parents were murdered when you were barely a year and three months old, and you were sent to live with your negligent and abusive relatives."

" _What?_ " Harry said. "My parents were murdered!? I thought they died in a car accident!"

Parva realized what she had carelessly said and let out a sigh. "I'm not sure how to say this… Harry… in the magical world you're quite famous, and not for being a dragon." She added.

His eyes widened, even as Hermione's narrowed.

"There was a war being fought for several years before either of you were born. A very bad man who cursed his own name to keep people from speaking it wanted to seize power. He killed a great many people and hurt anyone who got in his way. He was very prejudiced… you know that word, right?" Hermione nodded slowly but Parva decided to explain anyhow. "It means he hated certain people for something irrational. In his case he hated muggleborns because they weren't born to magical families. He planned on killing all of them when he took over."

Harry turned to stare intently at Hermione. "I won't let anyone hurt you." He promised her.

Parva smiled at him. "Your mother was a muggleborn, and she married into a really old pureblood line. The Potter family was an ancient and most noble house, and one of the twelve founding families of the Wizengamot… the governing body of Magical Britain. Your parent's marriage was an insult to the pureblood dogma… the beliefs that they all held. The bad man came to kill them one night, led there by a traitor who sold out your parent's hiding place. He killed both your parents and then tried to kill you. Nobody knows exactly what happened, but his killing curse rebounded and destroyed him instead. They call you the Boy-Who-Lived. You're famous because you survived the killing curse and ended the war. You were the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Everyone knows your name, and you're worshiped almost as a savior here in Magical Britain."

Rose was incensed. She hadn't known any of this. "So they just left him with those people!?" She exclaimed. "After losing his parents, who any sane person would assume were responsible for this madman's death instead of their infant child, nobody offers to take him in? They just abandoned him without so much as checking to ensure he was well cared for?"

Parva shook her head. "It might not have turned out well, but the reasons for sequestering him were valid enough. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still had many loyal followers, and most of the politically connected ones escaped prosecution. A number of those were even related to the Potters through the Black family. They were certainly out for revenge on him for defeating their master." She said with a pointed look at the dragon. "Dumbledore was Chief Warlock, and used his position as the judicial head of the Wizengamot to supersede the Potter's will and make you a ward of the state. Dumbledore placed you with your relatives for the sole reason that doing so allowed him to use blood wards. They knew from experience in the war that blood wards were powerful enough to keep out even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Minister Bagnold gave his approval of your placement and all records were destroyed to keep it secret. The will itself was sealed until you turn seventeen."

"Why would he do that?" Harry asked. "Why would he put me there? Wasn't there somewhere else I could go? Didn't my parents name someone else to take care of me?"

"He did it because the will named the one who betrayed the Potters as your legal guardian, and there was ambiguity about what should happen to the Potter Estate, given the circumstances. This way you can decide for yourself what to do when you are a legal adult and head of the Potter family. No one can contest the will until then, and they'll have no right to contest it once you're head of house. If you don't like any bequeaths your parents left you'll be able to veto them as head of house. I'm sure he had no idea of the conditions you would be forced to live in. If he had, then he would have found a more suitable guardian. For all his faults, Dumbledore is a good man and means well."

Harry nodded slowly. "So who is Dumbledore, exactly? Why did he have so much influence in my life?"

"Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He once taught as the professor of transfiguration, and is considered the foremost transfiguration master alive today. He is Magical Britain's appointed representative to the International Confederation of Wizards, though that position carries very little authority. The Dumbledore family did not have any seats on the Wizengamot before Albus Dumbledore was awarded the Order of Merlin First Class, which came with a lifetime seat on the legislature. Dumbledore had been fighting supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the government for years. While he was well respected for his defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, he was not as politically powerful as his reputation presumes. His efforts were constantly thwarted by the opposition in government."

"What exactly is his position in the wizarding government?" Rose asked.

"The position of Chief Warlock is sort of a judicial head of the legislature. Think of him as an Attorney General with some legal authority and political clout to back him up. Not so much an advisor to the Minister of Magic, but an oversight of the government itself. He can't write the laws but he can enforce the ones that they have. Unfortunately there are very few laws regarding things like bribery and extortion. It's seen as perfectly legal for the noble houses to abuse their power in government to better their position."

"And just how much of the government is made up of these noble families?" Rose demanded. "I'm finding that I like the magical world less and less the more I learn about it."

"The total number of seats varies based on how many families are appointed noble status. Noble houses receive a seat and a vote. Ancient and most noble houses were founding members of the Wizengamot and hold a seat and three votes each. They typically also have some ancestral lands over which they retain self-sovereignty. Noble houses sometimes lose their noble status or die out, and other houses that gain noble status are elevated in rank. Nearly three-fourths of the seats on the Wizengamot are hereditary, and these families have maintained their power in government for a long time."

"And where is Dumbledore's place in this. You said he received his seat from an Order of Merlin. Does that mean that he isn't from a noble house?" Rose wondered.

"That's exactly what it means, and it's why he's had such trouble accomplishing anything. Dumbledore was only elected to the post of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named openly attacked Minister Minchum and murdered him right in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. The newly elected Minister Bagnold pushed for Dumbledore's appointment to curb the opposition's influence in the Wizengamot. Dumbledore is considered a great man, because he holds his ideals of equality and justice above all else, and has fought to preserve them in both the political arena and the open battlefield. His appointment to the role of Chief Warlock may have been a wartime measure, but he has since used it to veto discriminatory laws and promote equal treatment to all sentients."

Rose was pensive for a moment. "If Magical Britain is this bad, would we be better off moving to another country?"

Parva mulled it over, eventually shaking her head. "There are other options, but while they would be open to you, your husband, and your daughter, it isn't likely that Harry could escape scrutiny. Not only given his… change… but also given his status. He is a national icon here in Britain, and they will likely fight any attempt to move him. Furthermore, you would technically be kidnapping him to take him with you. You aren't his legal guardians, and even if you revealed that he is alive and wrestled custody from the Dursleys, which in a muggle court would be no issue, you'd still have to deal with the magical side of things. Firstly, Dumbledore was appointed Harry's magical guardian by the Wizengamot. Even if they find him negligent and reassign guardianship, _they_ will be the ones that determine who is fit. Trust and believe that with the amount of corruption in the Wizengamot, he would end up in the hands of either the highest bidder or the most ruthless politician. Even if you attained custody in the muggle court, they would ignore it as invalid. Harry is not a muggle, therefore muggle judgements do not apply to him. I'm sorry but that's the truth of it."

Harry looked sad, and Hermione frowned in thought. "What if we disguised him?" Hermione asked. "We could invent a new person, with a new name and everything. I'm sure mom can arrange the papers. Nobody needs to know he was ever Harry Potter."

"It could work. It would be tricky, as there are ways of testing lineages and if you said he was an orphan that you adopted the ministry would want to find out if he had magical family. If you claimed him as your own child, or close family, then they likely wouldn't bother." She looked at Harry. "That option would probably hinge on you being able to fully change back into a boy. There's no glamour strong enough to make a dragon appear as a little boy."

"So if we were to seek refuge outside of Britain, what are our options?" Rose asked.

Parva hummed. "Well, there are magical communities almost everywhere in the world, though they rarely mirror their muggle counterparts." She said. "How much detail are you looking for?"

"Enough to make an informed decision." Rose answered. "For that matter, we need to know more about Britain's options if we are to make an accurate comparison."

"Well, plenty of the old world's magical population is extremely xenophobic towards muggles and muggleborns, but the greater majority are just completely oblivious and don't care either way. Sadly, there are very few that embrace muggle culture. They still remember the witch hunts. Parents tell their children horror stories about muggles catching little witches and wizards. And this situation with Harry isn't going to help things at all. You almost have to leave Europe to find places that are more accepting of muggle culture. That isn't to say that they are all as bigoted and prejudiced as they can be here, I mean, you'll always run into _someone_ who is, no matter where you go. But being ignorant of muggle culture isn't the same as being intolerant. They are mostly good people."

"There's always that one person who fits the stereotype and ruins the reputation of everyone else." Rose agreed. "I won't hold something like that against the greater magical community."

"Well anyhow, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry really doesn't have much local competition, and they have what is uncontestably the largest and best library of magical knowledge in the world. Vocational schools of magic are in abundance all over the country, but they cater largely to magical families, expecting parents to train their children in the basics before they arrive. I could teach them enough to meet the requirements easily enough, but those schools are all extremely specialized in whatever trade they teach. They would miss out on a huge amount of magical knowledge and also be stuck in a profession that they have no idea if they will like or not." Parva explained. "And if they _should_ decide to pursue a vocational school after attending a school like Hogwarts, they would be free to do so. Honestly though, most Hogwarts alumni attempt to attain a mastery after graduating. Masters in _any_ field will prefer to take a student with a comprehensive education over a specialized one."

"That makes sense." Rose said.

"In mainland Europe there is Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, which is in southeastern France. They are perhaps the next best choice to Hogwarts, in terms of education potential. They will likely accept Hermione, albeit grudgingly."

"Why grudgingly?" Hermione asked.

"Well it isn't that you're a muggleborn. Even the more elitist schools that require pure blood status would waive that requirement because of your sheer magical potential. The issue with Beauxbatons is that you're British… and they're French."

"Oh." Rose said. "Old rivalries die hard?" She asked with a grin.

"Yes, you could say that." Parva replied. "It's more than likely that they would take you, even if it was just to snub Britain." She said to Hermione. "But the issue would again be with Harry. Even if all other problems are addressed, there's no way we could maintain the ruse without inside help from the faculty of the school, and in that regard Beauxbatons isn't even an option. There are far too many there, both students and teachers, that are immersed in politics. In fact the school started as a school of magical law and governance, before it became the excellent institution it is today. Someone would try to either use Harry, either to coerce him into acting to their advantage or to sell him out to curry favor. It wouldn't end well."

She sighed.

"Then there is the Dumstrang Institute of Magical Tutelage, which is the next best school and although not nearly as old as Hogwarts it arguably has even older magical knowledge. When Greece was invaded during World War Two, the Dark Lord Grindelwald razed the Kolégio ti̱s Mageías to the ground, but not before pillaging it of all its knowledge. It was one of the oldest schools of magic in the world, predating even the Roman Empire. What tomes and scrolls Grindelwald didn't keep for himself, he donated to Dumstrang. Sadly they are one of the worst of the blood purist schools. They will never accept a muggleborn unless specifically sponsored by a noble family. You might be able to get such a sponsorship, but I don't like to think what you would have to agree to in exchange. Their school is hidden and can't be approached without an invitation, though I know it is somewhere in Poland, surrounded by mountains."

"That doesn't even sound like an option for us." Rose said, and Hermione nodded in the background. "We need to be a little realistic here. Who would take Hermione without issue?"

"The Kalmar Magiske is a magical nation in Scandinavia. Basically the magical side of Scandinavia united at the same time the muggles did, with the Kalmar Union, only they didn't collapse back into three separate nations. They are extremely progressive and make extensive efforts to integrate muggleborns into their culture. But their school is very new, not even two centuries old. The lay-lines shifted out from under their old one and the wards collapsed."

"Why does the age of the school matter? Do they teach less?" Hermione asked.

"No, but safety would be an issue." Parva replied.

"What do you mean?" Rose asked.

Parva hemmed for a moment. "Basically the wards of a school are immensely important, and the older a ward is, the stronger it becomes. Realize that a wand may as well be a gun, for both of them are deadly weapons. Although an immature magical core would be incapable of casting most of the nastier spells, even a tripping jinx at the top of a flight of stairs can kill someone." She explained. "The wards of a school prevent that sort of thing. If my earlier example occurred, the wards would trigger cushioning charms to lessen the injury sustained in a fall. Older and more powerful wards allow the structure itself to be reshaped, which would let the wards shift a wall between two people to stop a fight, or contain someone who was a threat. The oldest and strongest wards can actively _drain_ magic as it moves inside their bounds. A deadly curse could be weakened to the point that it only mildly injures. This is allows students to train with dangerous magic in safety."

"I see. That does sound important."

"You have no idea. There's been a serious injury or death at their school almost every year, and that's considered a _good_ average for their situation. Magicals face far greater dangers than muggles, and do have a proportionately greater ability to protect themselves, but sometimes it isn't enough. Accidental magic doesn't always save you when you fall. And although I do not have a high opinion of them, the more militaristic and regimented schools, such as Dumstrang, have far less accidents because of their harshly enforced discipline. The Kalmar Institute of Magical Learning is just not as safe."

"Well that school's out of consideration, even if the Kalmar Magiske sounds like the best place to live so far. What else is in Europe?"

"The magical part of the Iberian Peninsula is like a third world country. Their magical community was absolutely desolated when Napoleon invaded Spain, and it took a century for them to recover. Then the Spanish Revolution of nineteen-thirty-six destroyed them again. They never bothered to rebuild. Most of them just left the region, and it's nominally policed by the magical communities in France and Italy. It might be a good place to go if we need to run and intend to disappear amongst the muggles."

"Is Italy an option?" Hermione inquired.

"Magical Italy doesn't have a school of their own, though they do have a thriving magical community. The Papal State, however, manages the old Roman school: the Aurelian College of Magic. They are more of a military school than anything, training their students to deal with magical threats and to protect muggles from magical abuse. Think of it as a police academy more so than a normal school. Graduates are called exorcists, and they work in tandem with inquisitors, who are muggles trained by the church to fight against magic. They are very good at their jobs and always work in pairs. They are the main policing force used by the I.C.W."

"The church knows about magic?" Rose wondered.

"Yes. They are one of the only muggle institutions that have immunity to the Statute of Secrecy. The wards on the Papal State are immensely powerful. They sit on a nexus of lay-lines and are at a minimum two thousand years old. That's twice the age of Hogwarts. I am an amazing warder, and an expert in my field, so trust me when I say that those wards are impenetrable. If they weren't excluded from the Statute, the magical drain of breaching their wards would have broken it. Plus they aren't actively hostile. They are very guarded with their magical knowledge, however. Who knows what they have in those archives?"

"What about outside of Europe? With the Yanks across the pond or down in Oz?" Rose inquired. Hermione frowned at her mother but stayed silent.

"The Salem Witches Institute is no longer for women only, but they don't offer nearly the same breadth of learning as European schools, and their wards are barely juvenile. They do have the benefit of allowing students to commute to school each day, and very little prejudice is present in the Union of Free Magicals because a large number of muggleborns immigrate there after graduating. But that's not really a good choice for other reasons. There's a sort of cold war going on over there between the Union and the Magical Dominion. When the American Civil War happened, it split both the muggle _and_ the magical communities. And the magical side is _still fighting_. There've been, like, eight or nine armistices, but they've always fallen through on achieving peace. Right now is the longest an armistice has ever lasted, at nineteen years. But tensions keep escalating, and who knows when it will blow up again."

"Wait…" Hermione began. "In the American Civil War, the Confederates were the ones who were fighting to maintain slavery… If the magical conflict was a mirror of the muggle one…"

"It was, and yes the Magical Dominion is just as nasty as the Confederates were. They actually enslave muggleborns caught in their territory, and think nothing of the worst abuses towards muggles. The I.C.W. has had to step in to prevent a breach of the Statute of Secrecy three times in the last two decades. Most of the past armistices were only maintained because I.C.W. enforcers were present. They've passed dozens of sanctions against both the Union and the Dominion to try and force a peace, but neither side really seems to care. There's a lull in the fighting now, but it can become a free-for-all of wanton violence very easily. The Union of Free Magicals has a huge advantage in population and territory, since they actually won the Canadian territory from Magical Britain during their revolutionary war. But the Magical Dominion makes up for their lack of numbers and wealth by using unforgiveable magic to enslave their enemies and force them to attack their own side. They also use thralls in suicide attacks. It really is awful. The I.C.W. nations aren't willing to intervene more than they have, and honestly given the state of Britain's government I'd be afraid they would side with the Dominion."

"That's… that's just…" Rose was at a loss for words.

"That's awful." Hermione finished, and her face hardened. "How many? How many people are held in bondage?"

"The estimate is that there are around thirty-four thousand slaves in the Dominion. There are only eight or nine thousand free people."

"That's not a large population for an entire nation." Rose said.

"There are only about ninety-six thousand magicals in Magical Britain, and almost a fifth of them are born from immigrants within three generations." Parva replied. "There just _aren't_ that many magicals." Rose nodded but gave her friend a look that said they would be continuing their discussion later.

"What about the Magical Native Americans?" Harry inquired. "Were they just pushed aside like the muggles were?"

"Not exactly. I don't know much about the school in the southwestern region of the United States. Not even the name of the place. It's administered by a collaboration of native tribes who hid themselves during the expansion of the muggle colonial nations. The tribes are comprised of both magicals and muggles who escaped being confined to reservations, and everyone living there knows of the existence of magic. The way in which they hid themselves is supposedly one of the greatest workings of magic ever accomplished. Almost seven hundred kilometers of territory was magically shifted out of phase with the rest of the world, enough to leave it separate but still connected. They call their territory the Hidden Lands, and there are only a few places which allow travelers to cross the boundary."

"That sounds amazing." Hermione said.

Parva nodded. "But they are very isolationist. While they aren't said to care at all about lineage, they aren't that likely to accept you." She sighed. "And as for Oz, there aren't any schools down under. As I mentioned before, Magical Britain never gave up its empire. And although North America went to the rebels, Magical Britain still controls huge portions of the world's magical population and resources. Australia is actually a dangerous wilderness as far as magicals are concerned, but it's still nominally owned by Magical Britain. The I.C.W. took out a two-hundred year lease on Australia, and performed a magical injunction on the whole continent to keep anything dangerous from leaving. A part of this affect allows the muggles to walk past the magical creatures there without either noticing the other. The I.C.W. has turned it into a preserve for magical creatures, and has relocated a lot of endangered species down there, to keep them from going extinct. During the last war it was quite common for muggleborns to send their parents and other relatives to Oz as a way of keeping them from being targeted. The danger that continent poses to magicals made it a great place to hide muggles that were at risk."

"What about muggleborns who are born there?" Rose asked.

Parva shook her head. "They aren't. The injunction won't allow it. It was meant to act as a way to keep poachers out; to allow only authorized expeditions. The parents simply won't be able to conceive if their child would have been magical. The injunction is heavily enforced. No magicals could get away with living there, and even if they could they wouldn't be able to have any kids." She explained. "China, Japan, and Korea are all viable choices if the language barrier is overcome. There are magical fixes to that, but they're only temporary. Shangri La is the name of the magical nation in China, and it was formed during the Sui Dynasty of its muggle counterpart. It is one of the oldest and most majestic nations of the magical world. They are a very different sort, but never had the population boom that the muggles did and aren't very large. They are, however, extremely open to outsiders, and always willing to teach those who come to them to learn. I have no doubt that we could find safety and instruction there."

She took a drink to quench her throat.

"Japan on the other hand never joined the I.C.W. and is a fiercely independent magical nation. Their government is actually close to that of a noble republic, except that there is only one vote for each family, and clan associations make up a large part of their politics. Japan is also one of the only magical nations that accept all magical sentients as full citizens. Here in Britain, the goblins and the centaurs and the merfolk essentially have their own micro-nations, all of them separate and subservient to the wizarding nation. And Korea… I don't actually _know_ that much about Korea. I've heard that they are very westernized. The only other schools are in India and Ethiopia. The subcontinent and huge swaths of Africa are still holdings of Magical Britain. They still practice the caste system on the magical side of India. The caste you are born into determines everything about your life, from your occupation to who you can marry. They have schools that cater to each caste, and function as a guild of sorts to those learning and practicing their crafts. Those schools aren't really an option for higher education, and many wealthy and influential Indian families have sent their children to Britain for schooling."

"Sounds like they'd fit right in with the blood purity dogma." Rose muttered.

"Some do, I'm certain. But just as many are more willing to challenge old beliefs." Parva scolded her lightly. "Don't be so quick to judge. As for the school in Ethiopia, it's rather antiquated. While it's a very old school, they haven't really bothered to keep up with modern advances in magic. Ethiopia is almost five centuries out of date academically. But then, most of that region of the world employs apprenticeship as a means of attaining magical knowledge. I was trained that way myself, by Master Shahin. Knowing his name reveals a lot about my knowledge and skill, since he specialized in warding. But even after I received my master's mark from him, I've never stopped learning."

"I want to learn magic." Harry said wistfully. "What if I stay a dragon forever? Do you think they'll still let me attend school?"

"Harry." Parva said with a smile. "Even if I have to teach you everything myself, I promise you'll get to learn magic." She pulled out her wand. "Now watch this. This is called the lighting charm, and its incantation is **_lumos_**." As she said this, the point of her wand lit up with a soft blue glow, and both Harry and Hermione were enraptured by the display of magic. Parva felt a little nervous with Harry leaning forward to see, but resolved to do the best she could to ignore the fact that he was a dragon. "This charm gives off no heat, but its color and brightness can be adjusted by the caster." She shifted it slowly through the color spectrum, from blue to purple to red to orange to yellow to green and then finally back to blue. Then she made it flare brightly and fade away to almost nothing.

"How does it work?" Hermione asked.

"There are four things that affect magic: belief, focus, intention, and power. Belief in oneself and in one's magic; belief that both can accomplish the task of casting the spell, and belief that not only can they do so but that they should. The stronger the conviction of the caster, the more faith they have in their magic, the greater the effect on their spell. Focus is quite simply the motivation of the caster to accomplish the spell. Intention is more ambiguous, but can be loosely defined as the purity of the purpose behind the spell being cast. Intention can be good or bad or even both, and tremendously affects how the spell performs. Someone can cast a spell intending purely to harm, just as another may cast intending only to protect. Intent can turn a simple cutting curse from a scratch on the skin to a deep rending gouge. The last aspect of magic is power, and it is actually the least important. The cutting curse from my earlier example would use same amount of magic in the casting of both affects. Power can be greatly augmented by belief, as even a weak wizard that truly believes in their magic can accomplish amazing things. But power does matter for prolonged spellcasting."

"Is that why the magical world is so delusional?" Rose asked jokingly. "Because they have to constantly convince themselves that they are powerful in order to cast spells?"

Parva grinned. "I wouldn't know. I'm powerful enough that I don't have to convince myself of anything. I'm just naturally gifted like that." She said with a wink.

A jingling noise from the front door had them all turning their heads to see what it was. The door swung open and Julian Granger stepped inside with about twenty bags of food held by the fingers of his hands. "Romy, I'm back. I stopped and got groceries on the way home. Could you lend a hand carrying them insi— **WOAH**!" He shouted as he caught sight of the dragon that was Harry. His reaction was to throw his arms in the air and jump blindly backwards. He stumbled and fell back through the door, which was jerked closed behind him with a slam.

"Jules!" Rose ran to her husband and opened the door to find him sprawled out on the front step. "Are you okay?" She asked, barely able to contain her laughter now that she had seen he wasn't injured.

Harry, meanwhile, had crouched down as low as he could. His crown folded back and his eyes wide, anticipating the blame for the incident. "I didn't mean to scare him." He said.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry." Hermione huffed and patted him comfortingly. "No one is going to blame you." She turned back to watch her father picking himself up.

"Romy! There's a-ahh-uhh… I mean… I think there's a _dragon_ in our living room!" Julian Granger said. "Either that or there was a nitrous-oxide leak at the office and I'm hallucinating."

"Ah." Rose hemmed. "Well you see… that's actually Hermione's friend Harry. Turns out his relatives didn't kill him after all!" She explained cheerfully. "He's just had a little-teensy-tiny… accident… and now he's a dragon! Parva promises she'll try to help him change back."

"Please tell me that's not something that can happen to our daughter. I don't think I could handle it if it did." He begged, bending over to pick up the spilled bags. ' _Stoicism_.' He thought to himself. ' _Just take it all in stride._ '

"Don't worry Jules. I'm sure your daughter will still love you even if she becomes a dragon." She teased. "You'll be fine." Rose told him as an afterthought, and helped him to gather up the spilled bags.

Harry glanced at Hermione, then at her parents, then finally back to Hermione. "Romy and Jules… are your parents named after Romeo and Juliet?"

Hermione grinned fiercely. "They like to think so." She said.

* * *

"They're finally in bed." Julian said with a sigh. "Just mostly on the bed, in Harry's case. He's a little too big to fit on the spare. I honestly didn't think it would hold his weight, but aside from some ominous creaking the frame seems alright. The comforters will probably be all torn up in the morning. His scales are certainly sharp enough to chafe the fabric."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Parva said. "I put cushioning charms on _everything_. They'll keep the floors and the furniture safe from damage, and I'll be around a couple times a week to reinforce them and fix anything he does manage to break." She promised.

"Time to talk shop?" Rose inquired.

"So can we finally speak candidly?" Julian asked. "I'm not going to lie; I was not prepared for today at all."

Rose let out her own sigh and nodded. "This has been a stressful day." She agreed. "And while I will never _ever_ allow Harry to go back to those awful people, I'm not sure we're equipped to handle a dragon. What will he eat? How will we keep the neighbors from noticing him? Your wards on the house are all well and good, but they don't extend to the rest of the property, and certainly not the woods out back."

"I'll see about that first thing tomorrow morning." Parva said. "They'll have to be extended away from the house gradually. It will probably take the next two weeks. In the meanwhile I can work up a little something for a temporary fix. For now I would ask him to stay in the house. I'm not really an expert on dragons. I'll have to get some books and maybe contact a few people I know who work with magical creatures."

"He clearly cares for Hermione. And she cares about him too. They act almost like siblings, or a couple who've been together for years. You could tell it with how they moved. Harry would sort of slide out of her way when she wanted to move past him, without even noticing he was doing it. I couldn't even touch him without his scales nicking my skin. But she pets him and rubs her face in his neck and doesn't even notice how hard his hide is."

"Maybe it has something to do with her magic?" Rose suggested.

Parva shrugged. "I didn't notice. And even if I was watching, Harry has enough magic radiating out from him that anything she did would be lost in his aura."

Deciding to come back to that mystery another time, Julian brought up another issue he had. "All that stuff you said about this Dumbledore bloke…" He trailed off. "It seems to me the question is simple: can we trust him? He may have made an honest mistake with Harry's placement and his failure to check up with him. He may have intended the best when he set up those…" He gestured at Parva to fill in his missing knowledge.

"Blood wards." Parva supplied.

"Yes, those." Julian grimaced. "And if they really were the strongest protection he could be put under, it might have even been justified to put him with the Dursleys." He shook his head. "But I still don't like it. We don't know how things would develop if we contacted him and we're in the dark about what's going on in the meanwhile. Right now we're safe. And our relative anonymity and general obscurity will keep us safe. We're an unknown factor he couldn't have predicted and he can't have had a contingency for. Hell, that applies to Harry becoming a dragon as well, though it's best to assume he already knows that much. He might have had someone watching the Dursleys, and they might have reported in."

Parva found herself agreeing with his caution. She was a skilled combatant and understood the tactics he was outlining and their potential benefits. "But he'll find out eventually, and no later than Hermione's eleventh birthday… unless you plan on leaving the country and having your daughter attend another school."

Julian nodded. "But that's also a year and three months away. We can keep our position reasonably safe in the meantime and decide later if more drastic action needs to be taken. Preferably when we have more information. I dislike trying to plan things without knowing anything. It just leads to mistakes that would have otherwise been avoided. Better to approach this with a generic objective. What is it that we want?"

"Our daughter to be safe." Rose said immediately. "And Harry as well." She added.

"Both of them need to learn magic. I am not suited to teach them more than the basics in anything except arithmancy, runes, and warding. While I am exceptionally skilled with the magic I do know, I have a very limited palette of spells. I wouldn't be able to hold my own against even a fifth year Hogwarts graduate, if they were at all competent in their spellcasting. The school is just that good. The complete and utter variety of magic they teach is beyond comparison and the resources they have for further learning beyond the class structure is recognized as the best in the world. Of course it is up to the students to make use of those resources. And I've heard rumors that the Defense Against the Dark Arts faculty position was cursed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to prevent anyone from holding it for more than a year, which has understandably affected the quality of teachers for that class."

"Seems like a good quality assurance test. If they can't beat the curse they have no business teaching the class." Julian snorted.

"You underestimate the ridiculous power that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wielded. I doubt anyone alive has enough magic to overpower his curse. And no one but the person teaching the position could challenge it. Even Dumbledore wouldn't dare take up that mantle, for fear of it crippling him and leaving him vulnerable to his enemies."

"Why don't they just change the class?" Rose suggested. "Change it to Offense Against the Dark Arts, or Countering Magic and Applying Force, or something, anything really. Or just have two people teach it during the same year, or three, or four, or however many is needed to overpower the thing. Just for one year, so that the problem is solved."

"It isn't that simple. The curse supposedly affects anyone who teaches the students defensive magic, or how to fight. There used to be a dueling club, run by the students. The upperclassmen who ran it fell prey to the curse. He didn't die -thankfully- but tragedy struck his love life and his family was hurt in a freak accident. He went a little crazy from the stress and had to drop out of his final year, and ended up taking his N.E.W.T.s a year late."

"His _what_?" Julian asked. "Did you just say _newts_?"

"They're internationally standardized exams that test for proficiency in everything the student has learned. We call them the Nasty Exhausting Wizarding Tests…" Parva explained with a grimace. "They live up to their name. Absolutely horrid to take. There's one for every core subject, and each one takes around eight hours to complete, assuming you know the material. They really give you twelve hours, with a half hour lunch and two fifteen minute breaks, but some sections are timed and you lose points for taking too long, so if you actually take that twelve hours to finish it's almost an automatic fail. Just about everything else would have to be perfect for you to pass."

"Did you take these tests? You said you had an apprenticeship, and that doesn't sound like the same sort of standardized schooling." Rose wondered.

"I did; Master Shahin made certain that I was properly licensed to practice his craft, and you need to have taken your N.E.W.T.s to get your warding license. I took the tests when I was seventeen and I finished all three of mine back to back in the same day. It took me less than six hours for each test, and I broke a lot of records with my scores. I had perfect N.E.W.T.s in arithmancy, runes, and warding, and my warding N.E.W.T. was the highest score ever recorded." She finished smugly. "Of course with Master Shahin I had to be perfect. His punishments were quite severe. I got my mastery in warding after finishing my apprenticeship three years later."

"So to sum it up, you can't fill in as more than a tutor for Hermione -or Harry- except in those three subjects that where your expertise is focused." Julian said. "And you're still recommending that we send them to one of these schools that teach magic, reasoning that a well-rounded magical education would be best and that Hogwarts, which is here in Britain, is the most reasonable choice. But I've got to ask, why couldn't we just hire more tutors? Surely there are others who have the expertise and can teach. We could hire one for every subject; Eugene certainly left us enough money."

"That's blood money." Rose growled. "My father stained it with the pain and suffering his choices brought to others. We agreed to donate it all to charity. Maybe he could find some redemption if the product of his labors was used to help people."

"And this is our daughter's life we're talking about. _His_ granddaughter. She'll be a part of a world that is _heavily_ prejudiced against her for nothing more than the fact that you and I aren't magical. She'll need every advantage she can get, and if that money can buy her the education she needs to succeed in her life, I won't hesitate to use it."

Rose sighed, but grudgingly nodded. "He always put family first. He would approve."

Parva hated to dampen the mood even more, but she knew that it wasn't a workable solution. She hated how bad things were, but she had to be honest with her friends. "When I said that I couldn't teach them, I didn't only mean that I wasn't qualified to do so, I also meant that them not attending school simply _isn't_ an option if you stay here. You're forgetting that the very prejudice you want to protect your daughter against would work against you here. If the Ministry of Magic learned that a couple of muggles were hiring magical tutors for their child, they would undoubtedly intervene. They would never allow you to circumvent their system like that. They _want_ your daughter to be alienated from the muggle world so they can indoctrinate her in their culture; they _want_ her and every muggleborn like her to be so invested in the magical world that she has no choice but to remain after she graduates." Parva sighed. "You would never be able to keep it a secret that you were hiring tutors. Someone would talk, or notice that the muggleborn on the register wasn't attending school and come looking for her. Even if I leave the wards up and they can't find her, they'll know she exists and they'll keep looking. They'd eventually find her, and punish you for hiding her away."

"You aren't painting a good picture here." Rose stated. "I'm more and more inclined to run away. You said France wasn't as bigoted as Britain? It might be a good idea to move there."

She shook her head again. "France isn't _that_ progressive. As long as you were trying to avoid her attending a school it wouldn't matter; they'd still come looking. Most places would just force her to attend a school; maybe charm you all into agreeing to the idea. France would probably do something like that. Some of the worst places would bind her magic, which has a good chance of killing her after a few years, and then wipe all your memories of any magic she'd ever done. The magical side of the Low Countries and Germany is composed of a hundreds of small princedoms and several free cities, most of which would constitute a 'worst place' to be. There was a reason Grindelwald was able to rise to power in Germany so easily; he was promising them exactly what they wanted: power over muggles. About the only place in Europe where we could feasibly get away from forced schooling would be the Kalmar Magiske. And as I explained before, their school carries its own risks."

"What about across the pond?" Julian asked.

"There are issues." Parva hemmed.

"What do you mean? What's wrong with the Yanks?" Julian insisted.

Parva sighed before explaining once again about the Union of Free Magicals and the Magical Dominion, how their conflict mirrored the American Civil War, and how the fighting continued unabated for over a hundred years, between brief periods of cease-fire and sanction-enforced armistices. "And so, for all that they're much friendlier towards muggles and muggleborns the Union has their own issues and you'd not want to get dragged into them."

"Well shit." Julian said as he shook his head. "But they can't be that overt about it, if the non-magical side is completely unaware. I can't imagine the muggle administration not throwing all of their support behind the side not trying to enslave them."

"Why do you think the I.C.W. has had to intervene so many times? About the only reason the Union has ever earned a sanction is for the times they openly enlisted muggle help in fighting the Dominion. On the other hand, the Dominion has also openly attacked muggles in the past, when trying to force things to go their way. It mostly didn't end well for them. They were stupid, really. An anti-combustion ward is simple, and would prevent bullets and explosives from working at all. And a sturdy shield charm tuned to block physical objects can stop almost any caliber of bullet, because they're so light. Mass, not velocity, is all that matters for a shield charm. But they were stupid and took a lot of casualties when the muggles fought back. It's unfortunate, because it made them more cautious and now they tend to use magic to compel people to do what they want, or they just assassinate someone who acts against their agenda. They stay hidden, and avoid arousing any more international scrutiny."

"I guess the Americas are off the list." Julian sighed.

"What about South America?" Rose asked. "Or the southwestern territory that you said was secreted away from the rest of the world? What did you call it? The Hidden Lands?"

"The native tribes might allow you access to their sanctuary, but you'd have to petition them for it and you'd be completely giving up your way of life. Electronics and magic don't mix well. It isn't that bad in a house with wards, especially wards as new as mine and not tapped into a lay-line, but in places like Hogwarts and the Hidden Lands any electronics would have their circuits burned out. You would be forced to live as a native. As I said, I've never been there, but they _probably_ use magic quite extensively to make up for their lack of technology. So it might not be so bad."

She shrugged.

"And as for South America, many powerful families that were losing their authority in the old world have chosen to migrate and reestablished themselves there. They've all carved out their own little kingdoms, and they constantly wage war on each other. There's nothing even resembling a centralized government, and although you would likely be able to escape notice, you'd still have to be careful. Some of the families down there are a decent sort and would help you. But others are as bad as any you'd ever find. Plenty of wizards and witches who just wanted to indulge in some anarchy go to South America to cut loose. There aren't really any rules, and there'd be nobody to enforce them if there were. The only thing they abide is the Statute of Secrecy. The natives that used to reside in South America have created their own sanctuary with the help of their northern neighbors. They took portions of their own territory and -by duplicating what was done to create the Hidden Lands- they shifted them out of phase with the rest of the world. It isn't as large as the feat accomplished by the Hidden Lands, but all of their pockets of territory are connected to each other and they also share a connection to the Hidden Lands."

"We really don't have much in the way of options." Julian rubbed his eyes. "I feel trapped and I can't see a way out."

"So without leaving Europe it's down to Britain or France for magical schools, or the Kalmar Magiske for the freedom to pursue learning by our own means." Rose said, looking at her husband. "I don't like it either, but something we discussed before you came in was eastern Asia. China and Japan are both options, even if it would be an enormous undertaking to move there and learn the language. Both of their magical nations seem to have their head's screwed on straight. I just wish there was a better alternative in an English-speaking country. My French is passable but still basic, and Jules doesn't speak it at all." She grinned. "Hermione's actually better than either of us at French."

"You're right, it is an unfortunate circumstance. But you're also forgetting something else." Parva paused dramatically. "Harry." She said with a grin. "He's a factor that throws everything else off kilter. Yes, smuggling him out of the country would be an added challenge to moving, but if you choose to stay here he is a huge advantage to you. His family name would be enough to ensure your daughter's protection, but with his status as the Boy-Who-Lived and the fame he's garnered since the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named he's a political superpower. When he comes of age and takes his family seat on the Wizengamot he'll be able to push for _real_ change, not just this half-assed appeasement they've fed to muggleborns. And his influence will protect you both as well as your daughter. That doesn't even mention the fact that he's a _dragon animagus_. I can't even begin to guess what that will do to his public image, but it'll be amazing to find out. Like I said, magical animagi are exceedingly rare. And his form? A dragon is almost revered in magical culture, with some people even saying they were the origin of magic. He's already considered a savior. When they find out he's a dragon they'll think he's the bloody messiah."

* * *

Adjusting to life at the Granger's house was an interesting experience for Harry. He had never really felt comfortable around adults. Possibly the only exception had been Hermione's grandmother, who had even given him permission to call her gran. He hadn't quite worked up to calling her gran yet, but he liked Trudy; she was much nicer to spend time with than Mrs. Figg. Hermione's parents were so very different from his aunt and uncle. Aunt Petunia really did love Uncle Vernon, for all his yelling and meanness, but it wasn't anything like the love that Rosemary and Julian Granger had for each other.

It was the little things that showed how different they were. They were very quiet sometimes. It was how they would always look at each other when they walked into the room and instantly know what the other wanted, or how they would smile and nod approval of some action without voicing anything aloud. They were so in tune with one another that words often only got in the way of what they wanted to say. Which was a funny thing once he thought about it.

Harry was formerly introduced to everyone that first night, and Mrs. Granger asked him if he would like to stay with them. She seemed to understand his need to remain unconfined. She didn't tell him he would be staying, or demand that he remain. She offered her home and hospitality openly, and he agreed to it. Harry hoped she never had any reason to regret being so generous to him. He would try not to do anything that would disappoint her.

Parvaneh, as he later learned was Parva's real name, layered lots and lots of cushioning charms all over the floors and furniture in the house, and overpowered them enough to last a few days. She said she was worried about his weight and his claws damaging the house, and explained that the cushioning charms would make his weight a lighter burden and keep his claws from scratching the wood and carpet. The magic shined and sparkled, though not as brightly as the walls of the house. He sneezed when he sniffed it. It was pungent, like a flower just come to full bloom.

Hermione's parents tried to get him to sleep in the guest bedroom. But he found he couldn't sleep. Instead he got up and wandered down the hall until he found {Mine} **_Dii_** and slept on the floor beside her bed. He smirked as only a dragon could when he woke up to find her curled on the floor beside him, his wing resting over her like a blanket. Hermione's parents were not amused when they found out later that morning, but they didn't yell at them. Instead Mr. Granger calmly explained that it wasn't really proper for a boy and a girl to sleep together when they were as young as Harry and Hermione were. They were supposed to use separate beds, in separate rooms. He wasn't very good at explaining _why_ they were supposed to sleep that way, but Harry figured he must have had a reason to believe it.

That didn't mean Mr. Granger wasn't wrong.

It was obvious. Since Harry wasn't a boy: he was a dragon, and Hermione wasn't just any girl: she was {Mine} **_Dii_** , those silly rules didn't apply to them. The next night he waited until after Hermione's parents went to bed themselves, out of politeness, but as soon as he heard their breathing patter out into sleep, he went down the hall to sleep with {Mine} **_Dii_**. Mr. Granger explained again and with increasingly strained patience, each morning that he found them together on the floor of Hermione's room, about how little boys and girls weren't supposed to sleep together. He gave up after the fifth night, when it was Hermione who left her room to wander down the hall and sleep with Harry. She said didn't mind the floor, since the cushioning charms made it so soft to lie on.

The woods behind the Granger's house were quite deep, and had lots of game animals for him to hunt. Mr. Granger was a little worried that someone might notice the remains of the animals Harry was eating, even if they never saw him while he was hunting. Harry tried to be careful by eating his prey entirely if possible, including bones, and burying what was left when he couldn't. There wasn't a stream to bath in, but there was a pond a little ways to the northeast. The water wasn't as fresh or clean smelling as the stream he had been using before, but it was tolerable if he made sure not to touch the slimy algae that grew near the shore.

Parvaneh came by to give them lessons two nights during the week and one whole day on the weekend. She couldn't get a wand for them -not that Harry could have used it- but she did teach them about meditation and focusing their mind. Hermione could already do so much magic, and all of it without using the words that Harry had to use. His {Mine} **_Dii_** was really amazing. Parvaneh wanted Harry to focus on changing back into a boy. He didn't like that idea so much, if only because being a boy would mean that it would be against the rules for him to sleep with {Mine} **_Dii_**. When she explained that he would be able to change back and forth, he became far more enthusiastic. That way he could be a dragon so he could sleep with {Mine} **_Dii_ ** and be a boy to do other stuff.

He would never admit it out loud, but being a dragon wasn't always amazing. He could see and hear really well, but he couldn't even hold a glass of water let alone a book. And while he could smell and taste magic, he couldn't move it around or make it do things like {Mine} **_Dii_** could. Even when he had a flat surface to read a book on, he couldn't turn the pages without damaging them with his claws or scales. He could shout at magic and bend it to do something -like turn the pages of his book- when he used his voice to empower his words with intent. Parvaneh was terribly surprised when he first showed her the words of concealment, but his words were brutal and messy compared to Hermione's talent. In fact one of the books he was reading had exploded! Even Parvaneh agreed that it was like using a rock to break a twig instead of just bending it in half. And did he mention that he missed being able to read books?

Harry and Hermione snuck off to the library with Harry under his concealment at least once a week, and they ran into the five children who had helped him find {Mine} **_Dii_** on their third trip. He carefully revealed himself and introduced Hermione to the group, who found herself the center of jealous attention for perhaps the first time in her life. All of the kids wanted to know about Harry the dragon and how she found him. Sally in particular wanted to know _absolutely everything_. Harry chortled softly at Hermione's expense when the little girl pouted at her until she caved and told them all the story of their first day at school.

Learning that Harry had once been a boy was a confusing surprise for the five kids, but they accepted it readily enough. Seeing a dragon in the flesh is enough to make anyone more adaptable to the surreal. When Mathew wondered what he looked like as a boy, and asked if he would change back, Harry explained that he was stuck as a dragon and hadn't learned to change back into a boy yet, but mentioned that he was working on it.

Harry's ninth birthday was an interesting affair. All of his friends from the library showed up, Hermione having invited them to come over for the day. They had fun and Harry let them ride on his back while he pranced around the yard. Hermione's parents were dead-set against him flying while anyone was riding him, but he did jump around and glide a little. It was a lot of fun. Hermione got him books, and as his birthday present she promised to spend an entire day reading to him. He liked listening to her voice, and the thought of finally being able to read a book, even if it was actually being read to him, was marvelous. Parvaneh got him a large and flat stone that was heavy and glowed softly with magic. It was warm, and when he held it against his skin it felt like he was being touched by a thin beam of sunlight. Hermione's dad got him a pre-cooked honey-roasted ham from the store, and her mom bought an entire turkey and spent the day cooking it. They also made a cake and had ice-cream.

He made sure everyone took their share of the food before he finished it all. They were amazed that he could eat so much, but the sky had been overcast for days on end and the sun wasn't as invigorating when clouds were in the way. He longed to fly up above the clouds and bask in the sunlight, but he was leery of flying so high even with his concealment. Parvaneh had explained that while his method of hiding was effective against muggles it would actually be _more_ noticeable to magicals, if they ever thought to look for concealed things. And she said that he had been seen back at the woods in Surrey, and that they were already looking for a dragon. She knew about his problem and that was why she made her gift. The sunstone would have to satisfy him.

The start of the new school season approached, and he had yet to change back into a boy. He began to panic, since {Mine} **_Dii_** would be going back to school and he had would not be allowed to go with her as a dragon. He put a considerable amount of effort into making himself change, but managed nothing at all. The day before Hermione was to start classes he went raging and screaming out his frustration in the quiet depths of the woods. He had never wanted something as badly as he did in that moment. If he didn't attend classes with her, he would be a year behind and never be able to catch up. His magic swelled and boiled around him, reacting to his emotions as he cried and howled in distress. Suddenly he felt a change come over him, and found himself becoming less and less a dragon.

But the change back into a boy was not complete. His face had mostly shifted back, though his ears still had a plate of scale folded around them instead of skin and cartilage. His brow had a prominent ridge just below his hair, though at least it had skin instead of scales. And his scar was still there; a jagged lightning bolt carved on his forehead. His cheeks, chin, and jaw were all now sharper and with much more visible angles. His hair was back, though it was more like a mane and shaped like the plated crown he had as a dragon, stiffly standing in a pseudo-frill. His torso had two layers of plated scales across his upper chest and another across his back.

His upper arms and legs were more normal, but his skin slowly transitioned into miniscule scales and then larger but still flexible plated scales. Both his hands and his feet still had wickedly sharp claws, but at least he had more dexterous fingers and a malleable grip. It was as though he wore gauntlets and boots made out of dragon scales. The biggest issue was that he still had his wings and tail. Even if the rest could be covered up somehow, those would be noticed for sure. He completely despaired of being able to go to school with {Mine} **_Dii_** , and made his way back to the Granger's house in a foul mood. It didn't help that he was naked.

His not-quite-human shape wasn't nearly as well coordinated as he had been as a dragon. He found it quite difficult to move through the foliage and across the uneven terrain. His wings weren't capable of supporting him, though they were still heavily scaled on the exterior and protected him from scratches when he pushed his way through bushes. He was, however, far more adroit with his tail now than he had ever been as a dragon. He could so casually manipulate it that he would think to brush a branch aside only to have his tail do so instead of his hand.

He made it back to the Granger's house without being sighted, which was good because he had forgotten to renew his concealment. {Mine} " ** _Dii!_** " He shouted as he crashed through the back door and made enough noise that Hermione came rushing in to see what was going on. She shrieked when she saw him but quickly covered her mouth while blushing at him.

"Harry!" She exclaimed. "You aren't wearing any clothes!"

"Well I was a dragon just a few minutes ago! I didn't have any clothes on at the time."

"You still have scales." She pointed out his ears. "And horns."

"Horns?" Harry blinked, and then reached up to feel around his head. He really did have some; a pair of small horns jutted out from his skin with one above each of his temples. They curved back slightly to a sharp point. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He said, waving his clawed and scale plated hands for emphasis. "I didn't go all the way back." He flexed his wings, which had been folded neatly against his back. He walked over to the sink and took a glass from the drying rack and filled it with water before gulping it down. "You don't know how good it feels to be able to do that." He said with a sigh, imagining the books he could now read.

"Oh Harry." Hermione said, walking up to him. "We'll figure it out. I'm sure if you've come this far you'll be able to go all the way back. It'll just take practice."

Harry nodded, unwilling to argue with Hermione or voice his frustrations at how slow his progress had been. This was, despite the flaws, the first time he had gotten results from his efforts to change back into a boy. "Maybe we should call Parvaneh. Now that I've gotten this far, she might be able to help me get the rest of the way." He suggested.

"Okay, but then we need to get you some clothes." Hermione said, already reaching for the phone to dial her teacher. "Hello? Parva? It's me, Hermione. Harry came back from the woods a little early. He sort of made it part of the way through changing back to a boy. No, I don't think so. Okay, we'll be here. See you soon. Bye." She hung up. "She'll be here in a few minutes, just as soon as she finishes a potion she was making." She told Harry. "Now let's find you something to wear." She took his hand, ignoring his claws as if they weren't there at all, and dragged him upstairs. Harry spent the next few minutes trying on different pants until she was satisfied that he was decently covered despite the discomfort this caused his tail. Then they began trying different shirts, none of which were able to fit over his wings, even tightly folded against his back. In the end Hermione had to slip into her parents' room and steal one of her dad's shirts. It was huge on him, coming down almost to his knees, but it did cover his wings.

Parvaneh arrived with a faint crack on their doorstep. Harry was pleased to notice that he could still hear and see with preternatural keenness. "Come in!" He shouted to her before she could announce herself.

She opened the door and immediately looked him over. "Take off the clothes; I need to see what you've managed." She said.

"Oh thank god." Harry said, yanking his pants off and freeing his tail from its torment. He moaned softly and stroked his sore tail. "That was bloody uncomfortable."

"Harry! Language!" Hermione reprimanded him. "And don't be so happy about taking your pants off in front of girls! I know dad told you about what was proper and what wasn't."

"Is this about us sleeping together?" Harry asked. "Because the rule was about boys and girls sleeping together, and I was a dragon at the time." He explained. "Besides, you come in to sleep with me at least twice a week."

Parvaneh snorted at their antics. "The shirt too." She told him, and he dutifully pulled it off. "Looks like you got more than halfway through before you hit your block. I hope you can overcome it and can make it all the way back before you have to attend Hogwarts, but I can probably come up with something for this that will hide it from the muggles." She pulled out her notepad and started jotting ideas down. "Turn around for me." She asked, and Harry spun about so she could see his back. "Well you're on the right track. Keep at it, but I don't want you to try inside the house. Since you're stuck partway through there's the risk you'll slide all the way towards either side. If you shifted towards being a boy that wouldn't be an issue, but if you slid back into a dragon you might damage the house."

"Alright." Harry agreed.

"I'll put together a glamour just for you and see if I can't tie it to an enchantment. Maybe a necklace or something that can hold a large stone. That way we can hide your dragon bits from the muggles and if you're careful you can maybe go to school with Hermione." She said.

Harry beamed at her. "That's great!"

"It'll take me a week or so though, so you'll miss at least a little of your classes." She admitted. "And we need to be sure you can at least stay where you're at without sliding back into a dragon. No amount of glamours will keep you from being noticed if you're a dragon."

"I'll try really hard. I promise." Harry said.

"And I'll keep him caught up with classes." Hermione declared.

"Alright you two, settle down." Parvaneh smirked. "Have you had any dinner yet?"

"Mom and dad won't be back from the practice for another hour." Hermione said.

"I could eat." Harry said. "I didn't catch anything when I was out hunting." He added.

"Hermione, would you ring your parents and let them know I'm over and I'll be putting dinner together?" She asked. Hermione nodded and hurried to do so while Parvaneh pulled out her wand and started charming the cookware in the kitchen. Animated pans floated to the stove, and one of the larger ones stopped at the sink first to fill up with water, even as frozen vegetables pulled themselves out of the freezer and boxed noodles flew from the pantry and into the pan. The stove ignited and the cooking started. Harry loved it every time Parvaneh cooked. Watching her work magic never got old.

* * *

Nine days later, Parvaneh finished the necklace. A thin loop of silver chain threaded through a knot-shaped fitting that held a flat chunk of heavily enchanted sodalite. The blue stone shined with a deep inner light, and the magic smelled faintly of sea foam to Harry's enhanced senses. He only had one accident where he shifted back into a dragon, and he was able to force himself to shift back easily enough. He found that he was able to seamlessly slide into the partial transformation and hold at different points along the way. The humanoid half-dragon shape was still as close as he could get to being a boy again, but as he learned to control it he was able to shift his skin into scales and plated hide and then back. He could also shift his claws until they were almost fingers and toes again.

His wings and tail could be shrunk down until they were barely more than vestigial limbs. He even made his tail vanish completely one time. All the shape-shifting was messing with his balance and making him very clumsy. Hermione and her parents had enjoyed a good number of laughs at his grumblings. It felt good to make them laugh, and he knew they meant their laughter in the best way. They encouraged him to keep at it, and he didn't want to let them down.

When he put on the necklace it felt as though his whole body had just been thrown into water. A sudden slickness washed over him and pressed against his skin, as though he was sinking deeper and deeper into whatever was wrapping around him. All at once the pressure faded and he felt fine, even if his whole body smelled heavily of sea foam. No one else noticed the funny smell, and he figured that he could get used to it. He stood in front of the full-length mirror that Mrs. Granger had pulled out from her closet and saw himself as he once was. For the first time in almost three months he looked normal again. He cried with relief and ran over to hug Parvaneh. He could go to school with {Mine} **_Dii_**.

* * *

"They'll be back any minute." Rose said. She was standing impatiently by the door and every so often peeking out the window.

"I'm sure they were fine." Parva told her friend. "The alarms on the necklace would have told me if there was any trouble."

"Trudy called earlier. She wants to come over sometime this month." Julian said.

"Has Dumbledore been back to see her since he last paid her a visit?" Parva asked.

"Not that she mentioned." He sighed "I didn't like keeping her in the dark about Harry and Hermione and all this magic stuff, but at least he couldn't have learned anything compromising from her. I still can't believe you magicals can read minds just by looking people in the eye."

"I proved it thoroughly enough." Parva insisted. She had, in fact, laid all his secret thoughts bare in front of his wife. He thanked god that he was a faithful man and not easily embarrassed.

"Not saying you didn't." Julian replied sheepishly. "Just that it's hard to take. The fact that we couldn't tell her because we were afraid mind-reading wizards would pull the information out of her head just isn't going to go over well when we finally do let her in on everything. She'll probably hit me for giving her such a lame excuse." He glanced at his wife. "Your mother can be violent sometimes."

"Oh Jules. She wouldn't be so violent if you weren't such a hopeless child. Try acting your age sometime and see where that gets you."

"Never!" Julian declared.

"So are we going to bring mum in on everything?" Rose asked.

"Romy, can we really risk it? If Dumbledore checks back with her we'll be outed for sure."

"I don't like lying to my mum." Rose stated. "It feels icky." Julian sighed. "Don't give me any of that resigned-to-fail crap, Jules. She deserves to know."

Julian nodded. "And I agree, but life isn't always fair. Dumbledore already knows about her, and she's a link that leads straight to us. Our anonymity is our best defense, and telling her is a huge risk. And we can't be there to protect her if she's all the way out in Surrey."

"I know, I know." Rose said. "But that doesn't make it easy."

Parva went pale. "Speak of the devil and he shall come…" She muttered. "Dumbledore just apparated outside the wards. I don't know how he found us or how much he actually knows. He's coming up the drive now." She was panicked. "I _can't_ be seen, or the ruse will fail. Just avoid eye contact and bluff your way past him. Don't volunteer information and try not to confirm or deny anything he suspects. If you accidently look at his eyes immediately look away, and if you can't avert your gaze concentrate really hard on a really bad memory, something to startle him and break the link. You can do this." She said confidently. She fiddled with the charm on her bracelet until it gave a soft chime. "I've sent the warning so the kids know to go to the library instead of coming home. I won't leave; I'll be down the hall in your bedroom. If this goes bad I'll be right beside you. I promise on my debt to you." With those words she raced down the hall and gently closed the door.

Julian glanced at his wife, affecting a tired smile. "So we bluff, huh?"

* * *

 **AN: Well this chapter was sort of a super-chapter. A lot of world building and exposition rather than action. I hope I've made the characters and the history interesting enough for you readers to enjoy. I could probably have cut a lot of it out, but I wanted to create the sense of dread at being trapped in their situation and the impending confrontation.  
**

 **I've taken _some_ liberties with the Elder Scrolls Pantheon. Hopefully fans of the series will allow me this, as it was kind of necessary to promote the story in the direction I wanted. A super-powerful protagonist needs an even more insanely-powerful antagonist. The challenge has to be greater than the hero's ability to overcome. Watching them improve and become stronger so that they can triumph at last is the whole point, after all.**

 **As always I welcome reviews good and bad. If you have constructive feedback feel free to offer it. I apologize in advance if I missed any formatting issues with this chapter. The copy-paste seems to bug the text a little, and its very late and way past my damn bedtime. I'll check it over again in the morning. Goodnight everyone.**

 **PS: Sodalite is an awesome looking rock. That is all.**


	5. Chapter 5

**It should be obvious, but I must declare that I own no rights to the Harry Potter story or the Elder Scrolls game or any of their characters. All such ownership belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bethesda Softworks. Only characters of my own creation are not theirs, and I reserve no rights upon them, so if they catch your fancy feel free to use them.**

Chapter Five: A Convergence of Events

Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape approached the house with no small amount of trepidation. The reason for this was obvious.

"Do you _feel_ these wards?" Severus asked. "They're absolutely unreal. They can't be goblin-wrought. But they don't feel like wizard-made either. Do you think it was some kind of fay-binding or a faerie-pact?"

"I don't know yet." Dumbledore said, waving his wand to cast a diagnostic spell. "But from what I can discern of their composition I have to say that you're at least partly wrong. Some of these wards _are_ wizard-made; just exceptionally well-crafted. The rest are something else, which I've never seen before."

"What kind of wizard can make something like this… and without even a lay-line to tap into? These wards are probably stronger than the ones on Malfoy's manor estate."

"Truly the man must be a grandmaster warder, to have accomplished such a thing. There are only perhaps seven people that I know of in the world who are capable of such a feat. Now we are about to meet the eighth." He strode confidently forward, managing to overcome the compulsion which made people avoid the home without a prior invitation, so that he could knock on the door. Then he stood back and awaited an answer. He didn't have to wait long.

The man who opened the door was in his late forties, and had short brown hair and hazel eyes, with a tall and well-muscled frame. "Ah. Dumbledore. Good to meet you at last. I was wondering when you would get around to seeing me. Why, it's quite amazing, but I honestly haven't even sent off my letter yet. Were you messing around with time magic?" The man asked, looking him up and down. "And I must say: your beard really is quite impressive. Just as it was described to me." He added as an afterthought.

The entire introduction had caught him off guard, but Dumbledore recovered quickly. If the man had been about to send him a letter inviting him to stop over, he would use the opportunity to find out as much as he could. "Well then, I shall say it is a very good pleasure to meet you as well. Mr. Julian Granger, I presume?"

"Indeed." The man offered his hand and Dumbledore eagerly shook.

"I have grown to like the look of my beard, although I've found sometimes that it requires entirely too much maintenance." Dumbledore mused. "But I must confess that while I have been known to use a time-turner to add a few extra hours to my day, my presence here and now is simply a coincidence."

"Well a happy one then." Julian stated. "Come on in. I'll ask my wife to put on some tea."

Dumbledore almost sagged in relief as the weight of the invitation-only ward lifted from him. "I've brought another professor along with me on my errands today. Professor Snape is waiting just beyond the wardlines. He requires an invitation to enter." Dumbledore said. The implication was that he himself _hadn't_ needed one. It never hurt to play up your strength when confronting an unknown entity.

"Ah. Then I'll ensure we set tea for him as well." Julian promised.

Dumbledore waved cheerfully at Snape, who stalked over without hesitation. "Hello." He said to Julian. "I'm Professor Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts."

"I'm Julian Granger. You're welcome to join us for tea." Julian told him. While Dumbledore was gentlemanly in his posture, Snape was tense and rather slouched. Julian let them inside and into the hall. "This is my wife, Rosemary." He introduced the two to his wife. "Romy, be a dear and put on some tea, would you?" He asked.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both." Rose said curtly, and then turned to Julian. "Go ahead and show them to the sitting room, I'll be in with the settings in just a moment." She promised.

"Right." Julian agreed. "Follow me professors." He said as his wife turned into the kitchen. He led them into the sitting room at the end of the hall. The simple room had a few chairs and a sofa, and was brightly lit by the sunlight streaming in through the north and west walls as well as the ceiling, which were all paneled glass. The hall ended without a door, opening straight into the room. There was a door set into the eastern wall, which led to a small bathroom and had yet another door that connected to the house proper. "Do have a seat." Julian said, taking a spot on the sofa so that his wife could sit beside him when she joined them. "So I know why I was going to contact you, but why exactly were you looking for me?" He asked.

Dumbledore and Snape had both seated themselves in chairs across from him. It was Dumbledore who answered his question. "I met Trudy Fairchild by chance while investigating the… unfortunate incident in Little Whinging. I noticed her house had exemplary wards, though she herself was a muggle, and it made me curious."

"I suppose your interest in her had nothing to do with her complaints to the authorities on Harry Potter's behalf." The sarcasm in Julian's voice was thick. Parva had warned him that the heads of most wizard houses kept a talisman or trinket on them that could detect an outright lie and that Dumbledore -as powerful as he was- would be no different. Julian was careful to pick his words so that they were true in spite of whatever they happened to imply. "The wards were put in place to keep her safe from her husband's old friends, who had decided to take over old man Eugene's criminal syndicate. It was also a safe place to stash our daughter while they were _dealt_ with." He said, the subtle inflection of the word lending it a more permanent meaning. "I didn't even know about Harry Potter until my wife and I returned to pick up our daughter."

"So you did learn of him before his disappearance?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Funny." Julian said. "I do believe the press reported that he had been murdered. I take it you believe otherwise?" He asked. Dumbledore smiled thinly in response, and Julian leaned back and crossed his arms. "That's heartening news. But to answer your question, yes. He was all my daughter could talk about. We hadn't told her about magic yet, so she had no idea how important Harry was, but they somehow became very close friends. She was absolutely devastated when she learned that he died. I do hope you have more than just suspicions that he is still alive."

"You understand that I can't comment on that." Dumbledore answered.

"Then I'll refrain from saying anything to my daughter." Julian sighed. "And yes, before you ask, I noticed the… abuse he suffered. It was looked into." He chose it words with the utmost of caution. "But my understanding was that blood wards offered the best possible protection for him, and that they could only be enacted through his blood relatives."

Dumbledore went rigid. "You knew about the blood wards?" He asked.

Julian snorted softly. "Yes. I learned all about them. Not that they did a lot of good keeping him safe from his relatives' abuse. His mother's love was forged into a protection for her child as she died for him, and then further tied into the wards that protected his home. A protection that was itself powered by the love he received there." A look of disgust crossed his face. "Though to be honest there was so little love in that home that it's a wonder they didn't fail years ago."

Dumbledore sighed. "For all that she was powerless to help him, Petunia did love her nephew. He was all she had left of her sister."

"She sure didn't show it." Julian growled.

Dumbledore said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Rose entered through the hall carrying a tray with settings for the four of them. "The tea will be ready in just a moment." She promised, setting the tray down on the table and hurrying from the room. Julian helped himself to a biscuit. The buttermilk biscuit crumbled in his mouth as he chewed, watching his guests.

Dumbledore helped himself to a cinnamon scone. "I must say that your wards are most impressive. I've not seen the like outside of older workings such as Hogwarts herself, and the school has lay-lines to tap into for power. It truly is a marvelous accomplishment." He admired.

"Is that why you're here?" Julian pressed, suddenly having a thought on how to lead things. "You found Harry and you need a new place to keep him safe? Did he mention my daughter was his friend or something?" He sighed. "I'm not averse to the task, but-"

"Ah. No." Dumbledore interrupted. "Though I could see how you might interpret my questions along those lines, that isn't my intention at all." Dumbledore hemmed and decided to drop some information of his own, in the hopes of provoking a reaction from the man. "I was actually searching for him. You can see how you would appear suspicious, an unknown wizard in close proximity whose daughter had gained the boy's trust and friendship. I suspected that you had rescued the boy, or that he had come to you after escaping his relatives. I can see that I was mistaken. But what was your interest in contacting me?"

Julian paused for a moment to digest what he had just been told. Dumbledore actually thought he was a wizard… It would have been funny if it wasn't so serious. "My daughter's schooling." He finally said. "My family has never had to send their children to a wizarding school before." He paused a moment to think his words through carefully. "We've always taken care of our own. But I was looking into sending her to either Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, rather than seeing to her instruction myself. I was hoping to get more information about your school so I could make the best choice for her." He said.

Snape gave a disgruntled snort. "As if the Beauxbatons could ever compete with Hogwarts." He muttered. "Their potions program is like a bad joke. _Professeur Moraeu_ is a failure at anything but the simplest of book instruction. He cannot brew to save his life and his mastery was paid for by his father rather than earned by skill. He is a known fraud and huckster, his claim to fame is a 'curative' that in truth is nothing more than a foul-tasting placebo." Snape paused in his rant. "Though I cannot speak for their other courses, their potions course speaks for itself."

"You seem to feel quite strongly about that." Julian said, nodding towards Snape. "But I know Hogwarts has its own share of problems with bad instructors."

"The curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" Snape scoffed, and glanced at Dumbledore. "It _is_ rather worrying." He admitted. "I would have expected it to have faded by now, what with the Dark Lord's death. For it to have lingered for so long after he died is quite telling of the power he once wielded."

"Yes, well, you can see why I'm concerned." Julian looked to Dumbledore. "Surely you could have addressed the issue by now? It's been _decades_ since the curse was set in place."

"Alas it is likely beyond my power to break. We must simply wait for it to fade."

"I don't suppose you've figured out any indirect solutions?" Julian questioned.

"Whatever do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

Julian had to wonder if Dumbledore had figured him out and was toying with him, but he couldn't risk giving up the ruse so he pressed on. "This curse isn't just a nasty spell. It's a proper curse; like in the old stories. So just like in those stories, there should be another way to break the curse than merely overpowering it: a solution that counters the curse through action rather than magic. This crazy bastard of yours put the curse there for a reason. What was it?"

Dumbledore hummed. "He wanted the position for himself, and I denied it to him when he came to me about taking it." He sighed. "I had suspicions about him having a hand in the death of a student while he was at school, and the sudden death of the previous holder of the defense position was rather suspicious in and of itself." He shook his head. "I do not regret turning him down, certainly not now that I know what he would have become."

"Huh." Julian said. "So you knew him? Before he took a new name and went on a murderous rampage across the country?"

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded. "And while he fell under my suspicions at school, I was the only one who saw him for what he was. All of the other students, and many of the faculty, were charmed by his charisma and personality. He was terrifyingly intelligent. He could pretend to be whomever he chose; adopting whatever persona would most advance his position and make his target like him or let down their guard."

"Sounds like a right sociopath." Julian shuddered. "But this curse-"

"Tea's ready." Rose said, entering with the pitcher and quickly pouring the glasses.

Julian watcher her pouring the tea and suddenly found himself unable to move or look away. Only when Rose stepped back to pour her own glass did he realize that his eyes had glanced into Dumbledore's, and that the man's eyes were twinkling like mad. Quickly he concentrated on his worst, most horrid memory of combat. He was reaching towards a friend, gesturing for him to lay low as a rebel helicopter came over the horizon somewhere behind them. The next moment would haunt him in his nightmares for the next decade. He heard but never saw the rocket propelled grenade, he was so focused upon his friend that not even a trace of it flickered across his vision. But in that instant his friend vanished as a wall of molten phosphorus consumed him. It was a white fire that melted flesh and boiled blood, leaving the outline of his charred and blackened bones standing against an impossibly bright backdrop. The fire was so intense that it burned him from across the field, and his vision went black and his skin reddened. The grass in a thirty meter circle was ablaze. The twinkling vanished from Dumbledore's eyes and he sagged back as if struck. Julian took a sip of his tea before glancing at Dumbledore. "Be careful." Julian warned him. "The tea's hot. You don't want to burn yourself." He said with the subtlest of inflections on the word.

"Quite so." Dumbledore murmured, taking his own sip. He had been properly chastised. "But I am curious to hear your theory on how the curse might be broken."

"Well… old magic like that -an enduring curse- is meant to correct an injustice."

Dumbledore blinked. "I don't believe denying him the position was any sort of injustice."

"Not saying that it was." Julian replied. "But _he_ believed such." He remembered Parva's lesson on how magic worked. "Belief is one of the foundations of magic. Sometimes belief alone is enough. He thought that he was the best suited to teach defense, and the curse is there to show that and punish you for denying him the chance to teach. If that's the case, then all you have to do is prove him wrong. If you hire someone who can teach defense better than he would have, then the magic will recognize that he _wasn't_ the best suited for the position, and the curse should end. Unfortunately it seems he would have made an excellent teacher, in spite of his sociopathy, as evidenced by the fact that the curse remains after however many you've hired to teach the position. Someone would have been decent enough to break the curse otherwise."

"That's… actually quite sound reasoning." Snape said, turning to Dumbledore. "You see, you should allow me to teach defense so that we may be done with the curse!"

Dumbledore sighed. "We've had this discussion, Severus. You are too valuable to risk, however much I may wish to give you the chance."

Julian shrugged. "It's just a theory, of course. I make no assumptions on my own knowledge of magic, only inferences from what I've heard and read. It's possible that he might have done something else entirely."

Dumbledore fixed him with a hard look. "Would _you_ take the defense position?" He asked. Dumbledore believed Julian would be an adequate teacher, certainly compared to most of his other choices, and having him take the position would allow Dumbledore to keep a closer eye on him, and maybe reveal a bit of what he was capable of and whose side he was really on.

Julian wanted to laugh _so_ _very_ _hard_. He had apparently impressed Dumbledore so much with his 'skill and knowledge' in magic that he was being offered the chance to teach students at Hogwarts. Rose, unable to keep a straight face, burst out in a fit of giggles. Julian shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I must decline." He told Dumbledore. Snape fixed Rose with a questioning look, trying to discern what she found funny about Dumbledore's offer.

"Are you certain? It would allow you to see your daughter every day while she is attending school." Dumbledore added, trying to convince him to change his mind.

"If I was at all capable of instructing my daughter, I would be teaching her myself, not sending her away to learn." Julian replied. "Though I thank you for the offer."

"Very well." Dumbledore conceded, wondering just _why_ it was that he couldn't teach. "But as you say, the defense position is an issue. I've migrated as much of the defense curriculum onto the charms and transfiguration courses as I could get away with. And anyone interested in a carrier that requires defense knowledge is offered supplementary instruction over the summer holidays. There is a Junior Auror's program run by the ministry that will take anyone fifth year and above, though that is very rigorous. And finally our charms professor, Filius Flitwick, is a former world champion duelist and likes to take three 'unofficial apprentices' from each year group, though again only those from fifth year and above. I have personally seen to it that anyone showing aptitude and a desire to learn has been offered outside apprenticeships from capable masters of defense."

"I see." Julian said.

"I'd like to know about your potions class." Rose said, turning to Snape. "My understanding is that, since you took over the position five years ago, the number of N.E.W.T. level students graduating from Hogwarts has severely declined. Since it is a required subject for healers and aurors, you can understand my concern." She fixed him with an unwavering gaze.

Snape bristled. "You cannot blame me for the quality of students."

"Since you've been the one to teach them for five years, _yes we can_. It has been your responsibility to raise them to achieve an appropriate standard. If they haven't been able to meet that requirement, then it is you that has failed." She replied. Turning to Dumbledore she continued. "There is obviously something broken here. It's _your_ school, I suggest you fix it."

"Absurd!" Snape exclaimed. "I am one of the foremost potions masters in the world. The reason there were so many previous graduates from the potions program was that Slughorn, the previous potions professor, allowed far too many underqualified students pass. If they were from the right family or had connections a student would get a better grade than they deserved. I put an end to that nonsense and have been fighting to make students _work_ for their grades for the past five years! When I took over, they expected me to let them carry on as Slughorn did. I could not allow such incompetent people to make potions I may one day consume, so I ensured that only those that were willing to put in the effort passed the class. I am only just beginning to achieve results with this year's graduating class."

Rose didn't want to admit that he was right, but accepted that he might be. "That's… actually a really good answer. We'll ignore the graduation rates for now." She said finally. "But it does not excuse your methods of instruction. We've spoken with several graduates while researching your school and all but one of them had quite awful things to say about your class. Much of what was said had nothing to do with potions and everything to do with how you treat your students. It's clear that being a potions master doesn't qualify you to teach." She said with a sigh. "Did you know that in the muggle world teachers must have a mastery not only in their subject of instruction but also in _teaching_? It is recognized that having knowledge or skills in a craft doesn't mean you are able to instruct others. The horror stories I've heard from your former students attest to that." Snape snarled and stood up, ready to shout at this woman who questioned his skill and calling, when Dumbledore placed his hand on his shoulder and gently but firmly made him take his seat once more. "Your outburst and attitude when confronted with this is only more proof of the problem. If you don't have the patience to deal with hard questions from me, how can you possibly have the patience to deal with a class of eleven year old children?"

Snape fumed, but felt the wards tighten ever so slightly as he was becoming less and less welcome. Dumbledore interrupted them before he could say anything more in his defense. "All of that may be true, but it is not an easy task to teach potions. Especially advanced potions, where many students are working on their own projects and miscalculated reactions can be highly volatile, endangering the entire classroom. That he is stern with his students only ensures that they respect his rules and are careful with their work. A necessary quality, I assure you. Though I cannot certify Professor Snape's claim of Professor Slughorn giving unearned grades, I understand how such a thing could have gone unnoticed. Teaching is, as you say, a skill acquired through effort and mastered through years of practice. Severus remains the best qualified for the position, and I am confident he will improve with time."

"Again that stands as a reasonable answer." Rose said, turning to Snape. "Very well. You have our trust."

"But if the difficulty in learning potions has had such a detrimental impact on the quality of education, something should be done about it." Julian stated, quickly raising his palms in a placating gesture to calm Snape. "I'm not criticizing your efforts, but Hogwarts is _the_ school of magic for Britain. This problem harms not only the students who require potions for their carriers, but the nation as a whole. A decade worth of graduates is too many to lose. Magical Britain needs skilled laborers now more than ever. The war was costly, and the price paid was the blood of this nation's future being spilled on the ground. Far too many people died, and too few were born to replace them. But I haven't any idea what could be done about it."

Dumbledore sighed heavily and glanced at Snape. "I won't say it isn't something I've thought about, because I have. I know you have many pressing demands on your time and I know how much you dislike teaching the basics." He held up a hand to forestall Snape's protests. "Brewing potions for the school's hospital and acting as a consultant and a substitute brewer for Saint Mungo's potions department is a strain on your time. That isn't to say that the work you do for the school isn't necessary or that I don't approve of your charity with Saint Mungo's, but it definitely interferes with your classes. I shall look into a solution. Perhaps a few sixth years could be brought in as teacher's aides to help handle the first four years, freeing you to work more closely with those students who already know what they are about and those who want to learn advanced potions. Any such student-teacher would, of course, be under your review." He turned to look at the stunned Grangers, who hadn't expected him to actually do anything about their concerns. "I trust this arrangement meets with your approval?" They both nodded. "The details will have to be worked out, but we'll try to have something implemented after the winter holidays. It will be an excellent experiment to see if things can be improved."

Snape actually looked quite happy with this solution, and said as much. "That would be most pleasant, actually. I can even offer the better candidates an apprenticeship." He was thinking about all the free time would have, even if the only thing he did was foist off the grading of assignments onto the teacher's aides.

XXXXXXXXXX

The rest of their talk lasted only a few more minutes, and ended with a cordial agreement between them to meet again when Hermione turned eleven. "We'll loosen the wards enough for her to get her letter when it's time." Julian explained. The four of them stood languidly and began walking to the front door.

"I take it she's already on the registry?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Our family has always been private." Julian said. "But we knew when we chose to have a daughter that there was the chance she would need to attend Hogwarts. We allowed for it. She should have been picked up by the registry as just another muggleborn. Nobody will know any different, and we would prefer it remain that way. It's possible our family's enemies might target her to get at myself or my wife. Her being thought a muggleborn is another layer of protection."

Dumbledore nodded, inwardly cringing. That so old and powerful a magic as the registry could be fooled with such ease was disturbing. All wizards and witches born within the borders of Magical Britain were automatically added to the registry, but muggleborns were notated as such, allowing them to be found so that they could be taught. Not all of the children on the registry chose to attend Hogwarts, but many of them did and financial assistance was available to help defray the costs, which was a particular hardship on muggleborns due to the exchange rate. There was a trust set up by the Bones, Longbottom, and Potter families to ensure that muggleborns were not denied that opportunity for financial reasons. But if the registry could be fooled into thinking a witch was muggleborn when she was not, then it brought into question whether the trust was being abused to fund students that should have been supported by their families. Dumbledore wanted to ask Mr. Granger how he had done it, but decided not to press his luck so far. He had a good feeling about the man, who genuinely loved his wife and daughter, and even expressed a willingness to take Harry Potter into his house if called upon to do so.

They arrived at the door when Julian staggered suddenly. "The wards are under attack." He said faintly, going pale. With a sudden look of fury he turned to face Dumbledore. "Were you followed here?" He demanded.

"Not that I was aware." Dumbledore stated. "Should we call the aurors?"

"No." Julian said. His voice unnervingly hard. "We'll deal with them." He promised. The fact that he had no means of contacting the aurors had only a little to do with his decision. He pressed his thumb against a white plastic strip on the wall for a few seconds until a faint click indicated the release of the emergency gun-locker. Reaching inside he retrieved his pistol, and then peaked out of the window beside the door before shrugging and pulling it open so that he could step outside. His wife came up behind him, her own pistol in her hand. Both of their guns had been heavily enchanted by Parva, with runes carved into the barrel and stock to ensure that they worked despite any magical dampening that would otherwise prevent combustion. Dumbledore and Snape followed them outside, wands held at the ready.

They were surprised at what awaited them. Six people in hooded robes spread out facing the door, all pressing against the first defensive ward. A seventh stood back with a scroll held before her, chanting in what sounded like Ancient Assyrian, though Dumbledore may have been mistaken about that, given that her accent was utterly atrocious. The scroll glowed faintly and a light burst out from it, shooting forward and impacting the wardline with a crack of thunder. The ward shrank towards the house but held.

"We've come for the _Dovahkiin_. Surrender it to us and we'll spare your lives." The woman said. "If you refuse, your wards will fall in minutes, and then _nothing_ will protect you from us."

"Right…" Julian said before turning to Dumbledore. "Any idea what a _doe-vaah-keen_ is?"

"None whatsoever." Dumbledore stated with a grim smile, his eyes never leaving the woman.

Facing the attackers once more, Julian shook his head. "Whatever it is that you're after, we haven't got it. I suggest you leave before I decide to stop being so forgiving."

"Atral-Ka No'lec-Tesh!" She screamed, and another bolt of energy burst from the scroll and struck the ward, which retreated all the way to the house, leaving the four of them exposed. "Kill them all and find the _Dovahkiin_ for the master!"

The six attackers charged forward at once, moving with inhuman swiftness to close the short distance between them. A quartet of sharp reports sounded in the space of half a second. Two of the charging attackers were knocked back and a third stumbled and fell forward. Dumbledore waved his wand and a short wall of jagged stone rose up around the four of them, causing the attacker who fell forward to impale himself. Dumbledore feared they were not facing wizards, as no self-respecting magical would have ever attacked in such a manner. His fears were proven right a moment later when the impaled attacker _hissed_ at them and lifted itself up from the stone impaling its stomach. The two others who had been shot, one suffering a bullet wound through the shoulder and the other through the hip and leg, likewise stood up and shrugged off the damage. All of their attackers were baring their fangs at their soon-to-be prey.

"Vampires?" Snape exclaimed. "In broad daylight!"

"I hate undead." Rose spat. "Always creeped me out as a kid."

"They must have gorged themselves on fresh blood to be able to walk in sunlight without burning." Dumbledore said, turning to face Julian "They have killed at least one innocent already. Hold nothing back." Dumbledore focused on building their defense higher even as one of the vampires leaped at them with claws outstretched. He caught it on a stone spike that shot out from his feet and stabbed it through the heart. It was too much, even for the impressive regeneration of a blood-engorged vampire. The undead gurgled and died.

Julian stayed calm only through sheer willpower. He wasn't like his wife, who went cold as ice when in combat. He was a very emotional fighter. And he felt entirely inadequate for this battle. With Dumbledore and Snape focused on the defense, it left him and Romy to handle the offense, and neither of them were equipped for it. That left only their original backup plan, should things with Dumbledore have gone badly. " _Parvaneh_!" He called out.

The sound of shattered glass tinkled as an emerald-green and silver-white streak shot through the bedroom window on the first floor. It blurred past them with a wailing shriek as it cut through the air to impale one of the vampires through the heart, before erupting out and flashing back and forth in movements too fast for anyone present to follow. Dumbledore would later view this memory in a pensive a dozen times, and was never able to track the flight of the weapon. It severed the heads of two more vampires even as it pierced the heart of a forth. The last of the six attackers had turned to flee, but the weapon shot high into the air with a shrill whistle and stuck down from above, tearing entirely through the vampire.

The woman conjured up fire in her hands and threw it at the defenders, but Snape erected an unwavering shield of light that shrugged it off. A tenth of a second later the fight was over as the weapon stabbed the woman neatly through the heart before launching itself at Julian. For a moment, Dumbledore was afraid for him, but the weapon resolved to flutter about the man instead, allowing them to look at it clearly for the first time. It was a short sword, rather like a gladius in general shape and length. The edge of the blade was extremely thin and the silvery metal was impossibly reflective, but the flat of it was shaped so that it narrowed slightly before widening out a bit and then closing at a sharp point. The center of the widened section was cut away in a long teardrop, as if two blades had been forged into one. The hilt was like a single piece of cut emerald that had been wrapped in a silver spiral. The end was further stylized with a wickedly sharp point formed by the emerald stone. The cross-guard was the most unique part of the design, and was shaped like the wings of a butterfly. The wings were nearly as large as the sword itself, with veins of silver threading through and wrapping the emerald imbedded within. And the wings moved, flapping far slower and more gently than a real butterfly would have, but animated regardless. Dumbledore also noticed that there wasn't any blood at all on the blade.

Julian held up his hand towards the blade, which immediately flew to him. The blade placed its hilt in Julian's hand and _hummed_ with contentment when he closed his fingers around it. "Thank you." Julian said kindly. "Please go wait inside." He suggested. The blade made a disappointed whine before gently slipping from his fingers and flying back through the broken window and into the house. The wards glowed faintly as they recharged and then extended back out to their original position. As the wards passed over the bodies of the vampires they burned away, leaving nothing behind but a spot of charred earth and a few bits of molten metal that had previously been rings or trinkets. "Well then. It was nice having you over." Julian said to his guests. "If you would kindly set the yard to right, I've got to check on my daughter." He took his wife's hand and they left the stunned pair of professors standing there.

XXXXXXXXXX

"They've left." Rose said, turning from the window and hugging Julian to her. "They did a good job cleaning up the yard. There's no evidence that anything happened."

"That's good." Julian said with a sigh as the adrenaline finally faded and he lost the strength to stand. Rose helped him into a chair as Parvaneh came down the stairs. "Parva! Thank you so much. Are the kids okay?" He asked.

"Harry gave the all clear response through his charm. They're both fine." She told them, and both Rose and Julian sighed with relief.

"I've got to say that when you said you would be there if we needed you, I sure didn't expect that." Julian told her. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that sword?"

Parva shook her head. "Family magic." She said. "It's a secret I'm not allowed to share."

Rose rushed over and embraced her friend, kissing her on the cheek. "It was magnificent." She assured her. "You saved us, and Dumbledore never suspected a thing."

Julian started chuckling, and then broke into a full bout of laughter. When he had finally managed to get himself under control he attempted to explain. "Oh, he suspected _lots_ of things. All of them wrong." He said. "He thinks I'm a wizard, and probably you too, Romy. He also thinks we have no idea where Harry is, but that I've volunteered our home to take him in if he's ever found. He also believes that I have enemies and that I'm disguising Hermione as a muggleborn to throw them off. And that belief was no doubt reinforced by the attack today."

"We pulled it off." Rose said. "He'll likely leave us alone for now."

"At least until Hermione's eleventh." Julian agreed. "Then the game will get interesting."

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry and Hermione had left school and headed home after class when the charms they had been given by Parvaneh buzzed quietly on their wrists. That meant that there was trouble at home and they were supposed to stay away until the all-clear was given. Harry suggested they go to the library, since it was a public place and was far enough from the house to hopefully avoid whatever was happening. Hermione was worried about her parents and wanted to ignore the warning and go home instead, in case they needed help. Harry was able to convince her to give it an hour and hoped that they heard back from Hermione's parents by then.

After an hour without any response Harry gave in to Hermione's pleading and agreed that they would head back. But he insisted that they cut through the woods and watch the house from afar before approaching, and made Hermione promise to be careful and stay safe if it was anything dangerous that prompted the alarm.

XXXXXXXXXX

Remus Lupin had never been so uncertain of anything before. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. For the last week he had experienced the strangest of dreams. The full moon had been just four days ago, and as was normal he was haunted by nightmares of being a wolf every night leading up to it. He had followed this pattern for years, and knew well the routine that suited him best. He had already lost his job last month due to his absence during the full moon, and he hadn't yet found another. If this continued he would have to do another run for his underworld contact just to make ends meet. He didn't like doing it, but his magic made it so very easy for him to move merchandise. He didn't care about the legality of whatever he was moving. His only rule was that he would never transport drugs. His contact knew he had never failed to deliver intact and on time, and so allowed him a considerable leeway in such things. Remus snorted at himself. He was a damn good smuggler.

But this last moonrise had brought something different. Something he had never experienced before. Locked safely inside the cage in his basement, he transformed on the night before the full moon, but the wolf was behaving strangely. Instead of throwing itself pointlessly against the cage for hours or biting itself in frustration at being unable to follow its instincts to hunt, it curled up to sleep, dragging Remus along. It was the strangest dream. He was on an endless plain of hilly grass with sparsely growing trees, all lit by bright moonlight. And he was surrounded by the wolves of his… pack? They stalked over the hill, crouched low, hunting the elusive prey.

After a brief and exciting chase, the massive white stag was brought down by the combined efforts of three wolves, and Moony secured the kill by tearing out its throat with his jaws. Suddenly a fantastically large wolf trotted over to them while shining with a luminescence not unlike the moonlight. "Come forth my noble hunters." The divine wolf spoke. "For I am Hircine and you hunt with me this night!" The pack howled, and Moony joined in with rabid enthusiasm. Much that followed in the dream was a blur to Remus, but after hours of hunting and chasing down prey alongside Hircine the pack settled down to rest and Hircine approached him. "Come with me pup, I have a purpose for you."

Moony followed eagerly, showing absolute deference to Hircine. The wolf might have been willing to do as it was commanded without question or hesitation but Remus wondered what was going on and why he was being singled out.

"Because you can yet redeem yourself to me." Hircine answered his unspoken thought. "Because your pack has need of you." He continued. "Because you have lost your way and need guidance to correct your path." He looked down at them and brought his head closer, brushing his nose against their forehead.

Suddenly Remus was standing beside Moony, staring wide-eyed at the divine wolf before him and wondering what just happened.

"I have separated you from the wolf spirit so that we may talk, young hunter." Hircine told him. "As I said, I have a purpose for you."

"What… Why… Who are you?" Remus finally asked.

"I am Hircine, Daedric Prince of the hunt; master of sport and contest."

"And… what am I to you? Why did you call me here?" Remus asked, still confused.

"You are a hunter, a blessed vessel of my wolf spirit." Hircine replied with a wolfish grin. "And as for why I called you… I've brought you here to pass on a message. The child of the stag who stood beside you is in grave danger. You must go to him and keep him safe."

Remus understood immediately. "Harry's in trouble!?" He exclaimed.

"You are to be my instrument in your world, and I will grant you my favor in this task." Hircine promised. "I will remake you as the master of the hunt; not a mere hunter, but an unrivaled predator to which all other hunters defer. You will be the herald of my judgement. To hunt is to worship me; to overcome your prey is to praise me. Do these things willingly and you will forever have my favor." The divine wolf barked twice, and the plains trembled.

Remus Lupin could barely fathom what he had just been told. "So you… you're some kind of god, and you've laid claim to me because of my lycanthropy?"

"My spirit is a gift, and yours does take the form of a wolf. It would have killed you if you were not strong enough to be a hunter. That your world is so far from my influence means that I could not call you to hunt until now. Those who embrace the hunt will satisfy my spirit and join with it." Hircine looked to Moony. "The wolf calls to you. Why do you ignore it so?"

"I can't…" Remus began. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Lycanthropy is a curse, not a blessing! To be forced through the pain of the transformation… to lose yourself to the wanton bloodlust… to lash out at friend as often as foe… I hate what I become. If you really are a god then take it away." Moony whined beside him, but Remus didn't look away from Hircine.

"You would reject my gift? Abandon your pack?" Hircine demanded, eyes narrowing.

Remus didn't look away, but he reached out to stroke Moony's fur. " _I would protect them from **myself**!_ " He said. "When I change I'm not in control. I'm as much a threat as any enemy ever could be. It isn't my intention to abandon anyone, but I'll never let myself hurt those I care for. And if that means rejecting your _gift_ and defying you, then so be it!"

The divine wolf growled, but it turned into a throaty chuckle. "I am impressed by your conviction, mortal. But I will not rescind my gift from you. No, you are far more than the average hunter, and few are as worthy of my gift as you. I would not lose so valuable a hunter. I will do for you something different. When I remake you I will also merge my spirit with yours to ease your transformation and dull your bloodlust. You will be more aware of yourself when you transform, and able to control your actions. But this goes both ways. You will be closer to my spirit even without the presence of moonlight. The wolf will be within you and a part of you _at all times_ , for balanced must be maintained. This is not a gift I give lightly. Only my priests have been granted this blessing in the past. In return for this I would have you bring word of my truth to any other upon your world who carries my spirit. Bring them into the hunt, show them the path of the hunter, and my blessing will fall upon them as well. Do this for me and I will not bind you to my pack, but allow you to form your own. You will forever be your own master." Hircine promised. "What say you, mortal?"

"You want me to tell the other werewolves that there's a god of the hunt who claims them as his own? I… can't possibly…" He trailed off. "I mean… of course I'll do it… I'd do almost anything to be free from the pain and madness… but _no one_ would ever believe me. It would be a wasted effort unless I can give them some sort of proof. Blind faith is hard to conjure, no matter how much a wizard I am. You want them to turn to you in worship, but I don't want to commit to something I can't fulfill." Remus told him. Failing to uphold a bargain struck with a god was sure to have negative consequences. Even for such a tempting offer as his freedom.

The divine wolf smirked and yipped once. "If you lead the hunt in my name, those who hunt beside you will see my truth in the blessings I bestow to all my hunters. I may even choose to hunt beside you for a time. I would have you go among the packs and do as your nature bids. The only thing that could earn my anger would be to hide yourself away, as you have been want to do for these last few years. If I am to grant you my blessing, _it_ _will_ _be_ _used_."

"Then with that understanding I accept." Remus said. He finally turned away from the god and looked to Moony. "What do you think, boy?" He asked, receiving a bark in response. Remus grinned fiercely. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten the warning. We'll find whoever it is that dares to threaten our pack's cub, and we'll make them pay."

XXXXXXXXXX

The next night Remus apparated to a remote woodland and allowed himself to transform. He knew the risks he was taking and feared the consequences if the dream proved to be false. If someone encountered him as a werewolf they could legally kill him, and if he bit someone not only would he never forgive himself, but his life would likely be forfeit. After a few minutes of second guessing himself he lost his nerve, and was about to disapparate back to his cage when it became too late to change his mind; the transformation started. It was lightning fast and painless… everything that Hircine promised. In one moment he was himself and in the next he was Moony, only Moony was _different_. He was bulkier and larger than before, and he _felt_ the strength in his limbs and his jaw. He was hyper-aware of his enhanced eyesight and hearing, when his olfactory sense caught the whiff of small prey. It was a rabbit. He felt powerful and in control of himself for the first time since he was bitten, so very long ago.

And he remembered his promise. _To hunt is to worship_. He set off in pursuit of the rabbit, quickly finding its burrow beneath the roots of a tree and digging away at the entrance. The rabbit fled through another hole and the chase was on. A minute later he caught the rabbit with a spectacular leap, pouncing on the small animal from at least ten meters away. He took it in his mouth and its squeal was silenced. _To overcome your prey is to give praise_. He set the carcass down and howled at the moon. _This kill belongs to Hircine_. The moon seemed to shine brighter.

XXXXXXXXXX

Tracking down Harry had been a challenge such as he could not have imagined. He came back from his self-imposed exile from the wizarding world to discover that Harry had been reported as murdered by his muggle uncle. He didn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. He tried to seek out Dumbledore but the man had no time to spare for him. Instead he was left to his own resources. Divination was a questionable branch of magic most of the time. But people expected answers to be clear and attained without effort. If the right question was asked and the minor ritual done properly, divination would reveal useful information. Not always what someone wanted to hear, but _useful_ all the same.

So it was that he was guided north and west across the Isle of Great Britain, not knowing why he was led there or when he would finally find who he sought. He refused to consider that Harry was dead. Remus didn't think Hircine wouldn't have bothered to pass on his warning if he couldn't do anything to protect the cub. He just had to keep looking. He wouldn't give up until he found Harry. Finally the divination he performed each morning started to turn ever so slightly, until it was pointing directly east. He followed the guiding magic, hiking his way across Britain over five days. Then one morning, while camped out in the woods, he performed the ritual of divination and received no result.

He wondered if Harry had hidden himself behind wards, or if he was too late and Harry had died for real. He stayed at his camp for another two days, unsuccessfully trying to find guidance each morning at dawn. On the afternoon of his third day in that particular stretch of woods the object of his search fell into his campsite.

Literally.

The boy who looked so hauntingly akin to James came tromping through the woods in a careless rush. He jumped over the root entrenched dirt ridge Remus had set his camp against and promptly crashed into the green canvas of the tent. Remus jumped to his feet and choked a bit on his stew when he saw the boy. "Wha… the bejesus!" He exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

The tent had collapsed when the weight of the boy smashed down upon it from above, folding neatly over him from both ends. He struggled to get free, crawling out from beneath the heavy canvas. "Ouch." He muttered. He hadn't been hurt, but his pride was wounded.

Remus set his bowl down on the stump he was using as a table and hurried over to help the boy get free from the remains of his tent. "And here I thought my divination was a bust." He muttered. The boy's scent hit him like a blow to the gut as he instantly recognized the boy as James' get. He had to restrain himself from hugging Harry right then and there.

The noise of detritus being trod upon caught his attention and he looked up to see a bushy haired girl standing on the ridge looking down at them both. "Harry!" She shouted. "What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about miss." Remus said with a laugh, excitement flaring in his voice at this second confirmation that he had found his wayward packmate. "Just a small matter of dreadful embarrassment."

Harry finally got back to his feet and brushed himself off. "Sorry about your tent, mister." He said politely.

"Don't concern yourself with it." Remus replied. His inner marauder tugged eagerly at his thoughts and for the first time in years he listened. With a flourish he pulled out his wand and waved it at the tent while muttering ' ** _constituo_** ' {assembling charm} and watched with barely disguised amusement as the two children stared in shock while the tent rearranged itself.

"You're a wizard!" The girl bent her knees and slid forward, dropping off the ridge and onto the soft dirt below. "What are you doing camped out in the woods?" She asked him.

"I'm trying to find someone." Remus informed them. They were instantly wary. "But don't worry I mean you no harm." He put his wand away and turned away from them to walk back to his seat on the fallen tree. Tossing another lump of wood onto the fire he glanced back at them. Harry had moved to stand beside the brown-eyed girl, and was acting very protective of her and distrustful of him. Remus sighed. "I swear upon my magic that I don't mean you harm Harry, but you _are_ the one I've come to find."

"Why?" Harry demanded. "Why are you looking for me?"

He barked a laugh. "It's kind of crazy, really. Would you believe divine intervention?"

"No." The girl said.

"Well, see, the thing is… I'm a werewolf." He looked down, unwilling to bear the weight of their gaze upon him. "And on the last full moon I had a… dream or vision or something. I was brought before a being that called himself Hircine, and proclaimed himself to be the god of the hunt. He passed on a warning to me, that I needed to find you and keep you safe, because something bad was coming for you. Apparently your dad was in Hircine's good graces enough for him to go through all the effort, and since I'm a werewolf I fall under Hircine's… domain."

"Were you doing drugs?" The girl inquired. "Because I've heard that drugs can cause all sorts of weird reactions."

"I wasn't on drugs." Remus deadpanned.

"Well you seem to be having hallucinations and confusing what's real and what's not."

"Look, I can't exactly prove it to you right now, but trust me when I say that Hircine was very much real. He gave me a… blessing."

The girl blinked at him. "I'm sorry? He did what?"

"He changed the nature of my lycanthropy. And now I'm fully in control when the change comes over me. Not to mention that I'm far more powerful as a werewolf than I was before."

Harry seemed willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. "So what is this threat that's coming for me?" He asked. "And why would this god pick you? I mean aside from your lycanthropy and the connection he supposedly has through that. Why not some other werewolf?"

"Because I… your father was a close friend… and I feel that I owed it to him to come and see to it that you were alright. Hircine knew about that connection." Remus shrugged. "And as for the nature of the threat, I only know that you're in danger. I'm sorry."

Hermione spoke up. "The alarm… my parents! It could be happening right now! We have to get back home!"

"What's this?" Remus asked, suddenly much more serious. "What alarm? What's going on?"

"On the way home from school my amulet started buzzing. Parvaneh made it for me. That code means we aren't supposed to go home, but to find a public place to wait for them to come find us."

Remus glanced between the two of them. "This isn't a very public place." He said.

"We _were_ at the library. But it's been over an _hour_!" Hermione defended. "We're going home to find out what's going on." She told him, as if daring him to object.

"You're doing the _opposite_ of what you were told to do when the warning was given." Remus objected. "That doesn't sound like a good idea."

"They're my parents!" Hermione exclaimed. "I have to make sure they're alright!"

"I'm sure they love you just as much as you love them. Which is why they would _never_ want you to be hurt or threatened. You need to stop and think about this. Right now, you're knowingly walking into danger." Remus stated. "No parent would want that."

"You don't understand." She turned and started walking past him.

Harry looked torn. "Hermione…" He said, rushing to her side and grabbing her arm. "Maybe he's right." He tugged her arm. "We can wait a little while longer." He suggested.

" ** _No!_** " She wailed. Tears fell from her eyes. "I can't. I _can't_ do nothing! They could be under attack and hurt or… or even _worse_ , and it's _my fault!_ "

Harry pulled her into a hug. {Mine} " ** _Dii._** " He whispered. It seemed to calm her down. "It'd be me to blame if something's happened, not you. I'm the one they'd have come for."

"H-how can you say that? If it weren't for me having magic, you… you wouldn't even be my friend…" She trailed off as she finished, sobbing harder as he held her tighter.

" _Hermione_." Harry said. "I'm _your_ friend because _you've_ been mine. Even when my cousin tried to scare you away. We _promised_. Remember? We promised to be friends. I wouldn't care if you didn't have magic. I did it because I _wanted_ to be friends with you; not for any other reason. Besides, we were friends _before_ either of us knew the other had magic."

Remus, who had been watching the cubs from a respectful distance, instantly came alert. He sniffed the air twice, eyes widening in alarm as he pulled his wand free. "Children." He said in a calm tone which brokered no arguments. "Get closer to the fire, and throw more wood on it. We've got people approaching. And they smell… wrong."

Harry looked at him, eyes judging his honesty, before breathing deeply through his nose to sniff the air. He blinked twice and nodded back at Remus before dragging Hermione back inside the camp. "It smells like death and decay." He stated.

Remus glanced at him. "Strong nose." He commented. "Got any wolf in your blood?"

Harry favored him with a predatory grin.

Remus smirked right back and pointed his wand at a nearby tree. " ** _Scalpere de_**." {Scratch Out} He incanted. Bark and wood splintered away in a runic pattern as a series of symbols were etched into the tree. He repeated the process three more times, carving out a similar set of runes each time. His arrays faced towards the camp from the north, south, east, and west. He finished his quick-and-dirty preparations and turned back towards the kids. Hermione was watching him with considerable interest. "I don't know for sure that whoever's coming is hostile, but it's better to be safe." He said.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Harry says they're coming from that way." She pointed off into the woods. "That's about where my parent's house is." She exhaled sharply. "I… we would have walked into them."

"I'll keep you safe." Harry promised her. He looked warily towards Remus. "You didn't smell like a liar when you said you were my father's friend. I hope I can trust you."

"Harry… I'm a werewolf. Your father knew and _didn't_ _care_. If anyone else had found out, I'd have been expelled or worse. Instead, he decided to be my friend. Then he went even further. He undertook the druidic rites to become an animagus so that he could run with me on the nights of the full moon. He was my pack. The pack is… _life_. I could no more betray you than I could a child of my own flesh and blood."

Harry nodded. "They're here." He said. A snapping twig behind a cluster of trees thirty meters away proved him right. "Six coming from the front, two circling around to the left and one to the right. Nine total, unless one of them doesn't leave a scent or make a sound."

' _Maybe he_ is _part wolf._ ' Remus thought with awe. He had only caught the approach of the main group and the movement to the left, missing the other flanker and having no idea how many were involved. The scent was stronger now, and Moony raised his hackles in the back of Remus's mind. Something about their smell bothered the wolf within him. He walked a quick circle around the two children, etching runes into the ground as he went. It was crudely done, but nonetheless a full sanctuary warding. "Stay inside this circle." He warned them. "It'll protect you while I still have my magic."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked.

"It means that it'll hold for as long as I'm still alive." Remus replied with a grim smile.

Hermione gulped and nodded. "Okay."

The six approaching from the front were now visible as they moved closer, stepping around the trees and keeping themselves spread out. They all wore black hooded cloaks and kept their faces hidden. "That's close enough!" Remus called. "State your business or get gone from here."

They stopped advancing and shared a look between them. There was a short and silent argument between them. One was obviously elected to speak, as he turned back towards Remus and stepped forward, removing his hood. "We come for the _Dovahkiin_." He said. "We know it is among you. Surrender it to us and you will be spared."

Remus blinked and glanced at the two children. He gave a slight shake of his head and raised his eyebrow in question. Harry sucked his lips in and shrugged, having no idea either. Remus sighed and looked back at the stranger. "We don't have any idea what you're talking about, and I won't allow you to do any of us harm. You are unwelcome here. Leave."

"So be it, mortal." The man hissed and peeled his lips back, revealing fangs and eliciting a gasp from Hermione. "Kill them." He ordered, and the six charged forward.

Remus snarled and slashed twice with his wand, cutting down two of the attackers with a ribbon of magic. A third had the misfortune to step on a rune he had placed on the ground, and was blasted away with a terrible amount of destructive magic. Yet both of the attackers he had sliced through were standing back up as their wounds healed, and the other three were upon him already. Suddenly instinct took over and his left hand shot out to grab the closest attacker by the throat, hoisting him into the air. Remus' muscles bulged and Moony surged to the forefront as the change started to overcome him. The transformation was slow; coming in the day and with only the first hint of the moon rising over the horizon. But he was in accord with the wolf spirit: no one would harm his pack!

The vampire's eyes widened in shock as the lanky arm holding him became a staggering dense mass of muscle and brutal claws. It hissed in surprise and cried out denials.

Moony was not forgiving.

The vampire died when his hand clenched shut. Two more of them were upon him a moment later, and Moony growled in anticipation. The one to his left moved first, and was clearly much stronger than the more easily dispatched fledgling. He tackled Moony to the ground, forcing the werewolf to roll back and grapple with him, exposing himself. The other three took the opportunity to attack from behind, stabbing silver blades into his flesh. Moony roared in pain and snapped his head forward to bite the vampire he held pinned to the ground.

Another enemy died.

The flankers came forward, one of them casting spells that struck at the sanctuary warding and drained his magic. Moony focused through the pain of the poisonous silver cutting into him and howled, focusing his magic. The runes carved onto the three best proportioned trees glowed intensely before the wood exploded in a flash of brilliant white-viridian light. There was a great wrenching sound as the trees animated into treants. The enchantments wouldn't last long, but it didn't have to in order to turn the fight in his favor.

One of the flankers was caught unprepared and died when living wood pierced his heart.

Moony broke free from the four that held him pinned and spun around, tearing madly with his claws. He took an arm and a leg from one of the vampires and a chunk of torso from another. Then he bound forward, his forepaws striking the ground only once as he pounced on a second flanker and tore through him with casual ease. The last flanker pulled out a scroll and incanted the spell held on it. Silver chains erupted from the ground around Moony and forced him to the ground.

"Foolish wolf! You'll die for the insult you've given the master!" The vampire spat. Two of the treants had already lost their magic, but the third bounded over to defend its maker. The vampire hissed and spoke another incantation that struck the animated tree with a red fire that burned most of it away in a single blinding flash. "Die in agony." He grinned cruelly, waving his hand and causing the chains to tighten and Moony to yelp and whimper.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry had had enough of this. He glanced at Hermione and saw the same conviction in her eyes. With deliberate care he took Parvaneh's amulets off and held them out to Hermione. "Hold onto these?" He asked her.

She nodded and took them. "I think they are vampires. Please be careful?" She asked him.

"I will." Harry promised. He took three steps forward and then _changed_. The enemy barely had time to notice that something was wrong. A blur of movement caught its attention, but too late to respond. Harry was already behind it and a single swipe of his claws had taken its head.

The two uninjured {Vampire} **_Sosnaak_** had turned to run, fleeing with inhuman swiftness. They were a threat to his {Mine} **_Dii_** , and Harry gave chase after deciding that the two wounded vampires were less of a danger. He caught up to the first in just moments and the other not long after. He returned to his {Mine} **_Dii_** and strutted forward triumphantly. But the vampire missing both an arm and a leg had pulled out a scroll and called out an incantation. He vanished in a swirl of magic, taking the other injured vampire with him.

Harry barked in irritation at the escape of his prey and turned to his {Mine} **_Dii_** for comfort. She directed him to cut the {Werewolf} **_Mungrohiik_** free from the magical bindings. He did before shifting back to his hybrid form and pulling his {Mine} **_Dii_** into a hug.

"Harry!" Hermione returned his embrace. "Are you okay? You disappeared into the forest when you were chasing after those other two. I couldn't see you."

He kept himself alert, watchful for any new threat. "I'm…" He took a deep breath and forced his predator instincts back. "I'm fine." He told her. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"I'm not sorry!" Hermione said. "If you didn't turn into a dragon and make them leave they might have killed us. Or him." She gestured at Remus. Harry spared the man a glance. "Speaking of… Are you alright?" She asked him.

Remus had already shifted back into his human shape and was standing up shakily. "I'll be fully recovered in a few days." He told her. "Werewolves heal very quickly, and I've a few potions I can take to speed things along."

Harry nodded. "Do you need a hand?" He asked.

"If you could find my wand for me, I'd be immensely grateful." Remus said.

Hermione was about to help look when she saw the bodies on the ground and thought better of it. Harry had no hesitation at all, and quickly retrieved the wand for Remus. "Here."

"Thanks." Remus said. "So… you're a dragon animagus? When did that happen? I know I mentioned earlier that your father was an animagus as well. He was a stag."

Harry perked up at the mention of his dad. He had been wary earlier, unsure how much he trusted Remus. But now he felt an odd kinship with the man. "It just sort of… happened one night." He admitted. "Were those things really vampires?"

"Yes… and the fact that they were in open sun means that they gorged themselves on living blood. They were murderers. There's no other way they could have ignored the sunlight."

"Do you think we'll have trouble because those other two got away?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked to Remus who gave him a troubling look. "With absolute certainty." Remus sighed. " _Dovahkiin_ translates to 'dragonborn' in the old tongue. I think we now know who they were after."


End file.
